Innocence
by Demetry2499
Summary: A twelve year old girl is innocently thrown into a corrupt prison and is locked in a cell with one of the most infamous criminals in the world: Clive Dove. BY THE WAY: despite what the link says, there are sixteen chapters in this book. This was my first story so I didn't know that you could separate chapters.
1. Chapters 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and 7

Chapter 1

_ He sat back in his cell, not knowing exactly what he was waiting for. He needed some excitement; being in prison was very boring, after all. He closed his eyes and listened. Someone was coming._

"I'm telling you, I didn't!" I protested. "You have to let me go. You can't do this!"

"Shut up," the guard said. He continued dragging me through the dull hallway.

_The footsteps were getting closer. He realized that whoever was approaching was coming straight towards him. He heard voices now. As he listened, he identified one of the voices as a guard and the other as a prisoner. He knew he would not be alone much longer. _

_The cell door opened and the guard threw a young girl into the room. "Here," the guard muttered. "Make friends." Then he slammed the door closed and left. _

I pounded on the door, screaming. "You can't keep me here! You know full well I didn't do it! This whole place is corrupted!"

I knew no one was coming. I kept pounding for a few minutes, then gave up. I was still in shock. I couldn't believe I was being held here. It was so obvious that I couldn't have done it. Why did no one believe me? In my twelve years of life, I never imagined I'd be accused of something so horrible.

"Hello there," said a voice behind me. I whirled around. I saw a boy about sixteen, with light brown hair and blue eyes. The boy wore a white shirt under a light blue suit jacket and black pants and shoes. He had a light blue hat on. He was standing up; he was very tall. He wore a genial expression on his face. "The name's Clive. Pleased to meet you."

I backed away. I didn't know what he did, but I'd heard he was one of the worst criminals in the district. To be this polite, he must have some kind of ulterior motive.

My silence seemed to entertain him. "A shy girl, are you? That's alright. I'll try not to bother you."

He sounded pretty convincing, but I wasn't sure. I didn't usually trust people right away. It just wasn't natural for me.

I continued backing away, pressing myself against the wall. I was sure I was shaking. I mean, I didn't know him at all. I couldn't help being afraid.

He sighed, his smile fading for a moment. "I assume they told you a lot about me, then. I promise you, most of it is exaggerated."

"Um, actually, sir, they told me nothing," I whispered. I watched him nervously.

"Oh really? Nothing at all?" he sounded slightly amused. "Well, that's interesting." He smiled again. "So, what did you do?"

I shrunk back. "I-I can't answer that."

His smile turned sympathetic. "Alright then. I'm not going to force you to tell me anything you're uncomfortable saying."

I said nothing. I just kept staring at him, hoping he wouldn't notice how scared I was, but knowing on the inside that he undoubtedly did. It made me uneasy how he was being so friendly, trying his best to keep a conversation going, even though he was pretty much talking to himself. I wished he wouldn't pay so much attention to me. I wished he'd just ignore me like everyone else did. I wished more than ever that I could just disappear.

_He had stopped talking now, and was looking at the nameless girl. He thought she looked about fourteen, and was very small. She was also very pale, and she looked delicate. She wore a light magenta vest over a white blouse, and a skirt of the same color. Her hair was her most interesting feature—short in length and dark magenta in color. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, and shining with fear. _

_He felt horrible. He did not want her to be afraid; he wanted her to be comfortable. The last couple of weeks had been very lonely. He had not spoken to anyone since he had gotten to the prison. He had been longing for someone to talk to; he had been longing for a friend. And this girl seemed… different, somehow. He could tell that she was not a criminal. But if she was not a criminal, what exactly was she doing here? Who was she? Why was she so afraid of him? _

_He decided he would find out. He would have all of his questions answered, but he would not pry. He refused to do anything to upset the poor girl. She was upset enough as it is. _

_He would start by finding out her name. Then he'd move forward from there. _

_With his plan set, he decided to get some rest. Tomorrow, he would put his plan into action. He would finally have a friend._

Chapter 2

I was sitting in the corner of the cell now. The boy Clive was sitting more towards the middle of the cell. He looked so… comfortable. So relaxed. I couldn't understand how a person could be that comfortable in prison. His calmness only made me more uneasy. What was he planning?

He gazed over at me and smiled. I pulled away, extremely uncomfortable at the thought of him watching me. He seemed to notice my discomfort and he looked away. He shifted his weight, in embarrassment or anticipation I couldn't tell.

I never took my eyes off of him. I needed to be sure he wasn't planning anything… but how?

_He did not want to risk looking over at her again. The last time he did she seemed to get even more afraid, though he wasn't sure how that was possible. It made him feel bad that she was so scared of him. He wished she would be more comfortable with him. After all, he didn't want to hurt her. _

_He knew she was watching his every move. It didn't bother him, though; maybe she'd realize soon that he wasn't about to try anything funny. All he wanted was a friend._

_He stole another glance at her. He hoped she wouldn't notice, but she was watching him too carefully to miss it. She cowered away, turning as white as a ghost. _

_He sighed. Why did she have to get nervous so easily? What had he done to make her so terrified of him? He hated to see her so upset. Was there anything he could do to comfort the poor girl? _

_Then, he remembered something. The plan! Of course! He would put it into action today. He would start by making some kind of conversation; he'd slowly get the information out of her. He'd tell her about himself as well, of course. In fact, he would tell her more than she told him. He decided that he would gain her trust by showing he trusted her first. _

_ She must have noticed his sudden burst of excitement. She stared at him with a mixed expression of curiosity and fear. He flashed her another sympathetic smile, hoping to encourage her to say something. She shrunk back again. _

_He was disappointed. He could tell this was going to be very, very difficult. _

I was still staring at Clive. I had noticed something that made me dreadfully anxious. He was sitting there quietly, as he had been most of the day, when he suddenly seemed to become… unnaturally enthusiastic. I caught him looking at me for a third time after that. He smiled at me again. I pressed myself against the wall. I could trust no one.

I couldn't help thinking he was up to something. And whatever it was, it included me. I had to make sure I didn't fall for his trap. Whatever that was.

_He thought over the conversation he had been planning out in his head. He understood that the girl would probably say little or nothing at all. He would have to keep the discussion going himself. Now he just needed some excuse to start talking… _

_Just then, the girl suffered from a coughing fit. She seemed to be appallingly sick. He didn't want to abandon the pitiable girl, but to make her at ease he had to keep his distance. He got up and approached her slowly, making no sudden movements. _

"Are you alright?" Clive asked. He spoke in a voice soft as cotton and sweet as honey. It also had a soothing tone to it. I realized I was starting to compose myself. My coughing died down and I noticed that I was a little sleepy. I guessed that my coughing fit must have exhausted me.

"Miss? Are you alright?" he repeated. His expression was one of tremendous worry.

I nodded, refusing to say a word. I didn't know if he was feigning his fretfulness or not. He sounded fairly credible. His calm, soothing voice was now laced with alarm. His face was shadowed with worry. Yet in his eyes, I thought could see an extremely faint sliver of satisfaction, but it was gone the next moment. I knew I had most likely just imagined it, but I couldn't help wondering if he had some kind of unsavory motive.

"_Are you sure you're alright?" he asked. "You look sick. Do you need me to get you something?_ _Water?_ _Medicine? Anything?" _

_She shook her head no. She was staring up at him. She was no longer coughing, though she still looked notably fatigued. He worried she might lose consciousness. It was possible. She was weary enough._

_He did not want to risk getting any closer. He knew that just one wrong move could set her off. He felt guilty to admit it, but he was actually a little glad that she had started coughing. He hated seeing her look so feeble, but he had found an excuse to talk to her now. Now was his chance. _

"Well, if you need anything, you can always ask me," the boy said hopefully.

"Uh, thanks," I whispered. I didn't want to be deceived, but I found myself trusting Clivemore than I should have. I mean, he was just a kid, after all. What's the worst he could have done?

He was still hovering over me, his eyes clouded with concern. After a little while, he reluctantly went back to his spot in the middle of the cell and sat down. He was still staring at me, fretting over me. His fretfulness made me uneasy. Was I really as sick as he made it seem?

Just then, the door opened and two guards walked in. Their expressions were cold, hard, and merciless. One of them was smaller, with an unnaturally large jaw, and pasty skin that looked almost grey. The other was much bigger, with a small head and what looked at first like a third eye. He was very tan. It was uncomplicated to tell: they were pure evil.

I could feel the blood drain from my skin. Even Clive, who was usually rosy and cheerful, including when a guard walked in, had an uncharacteristically uneasy look to him.

"Where's the girl?" the bigger one asked him.

Clivewent pale. "Huh?" he mumbled. He seemed too panicked to say anything else. Instead he gestured my little corner, shooting me an apologetic glance. He looked ashamed of himself for revealing my location.

The guards looked over at me.

"She looks unharmed," The smaller one commented.

"Good. Let's bring her in."

The bigger of the two men came over and grabbed my arm. "Come here, girly. We're having an interrogation."

I struggled to get loose, but he was too strong. The smaller one laughed at my helplessness. He grabbed my other arm and they dragged me away.

Chapter 3

_His heart was pounding in his chest. He recognized the two men easily. They had worked for him during his time as an unrestricted criminal. And now, they were against him. He tried desperately to mask his panic, but the fear was overwhelming and he failed miserably. He wished he hadn't told them where the girl was. He knew they would have found her soon enough; it was a small cell, claustrophobic, even. But now he knew that if anything happened to the poor girl, he would be accused. And of course, he would feel guilty as well as being forced to take blame. He would most likely get a longer sentence._

_He slumped over, filled with guilt, shame, and worry. When Fisheye and Lockjaw were captured, they had sworn to get revenge against him. Now he feared the girl would pay the price._

_Revenge is very powerful. Once it takes over, it can cause unimaginable damage to not only those whom it is used against, but also to the revenger himself. He knew about this. He knew all too well about the uncontrollable madness brought on by revenge. He knew about the shock felt at that terrible moment when you realize what horrible things you've done. He knew about the way that remorse overwhelmed you, eating away at your conscience until you become so weak with culpability that you can no longer stand and you collapse, hating yourself for what you've done. _

_He shuddered. He did not want to think about that now. Instead he thought of the girl. She was shy and mysterious, made even more secretive by her strange trepidation for everything. But more than anything, he was very fascinated by her hair. Her enigmatically colored hair. Her puzzlingly, perplexingly, curiously colored magenta hair. It couldn't possibly be dyed; it would have worn out by now. But how could it naturally be that color? The thought of it captivated him. He had seen her every day since she arrived, yet her hair color still puzzled him so. Maybe it was dyed, after all; he would have to ask when she came back. If she came back, that is. _

The guards brought me to a dull room with a table and some chairs. It was just as dull and grey and depressing as the rest of the building. They asked me some questions about my case, which I answered truthfully and cryptically. Though I wanted to be proved innocent, I did not want to cry in front of them. They would laugh. I knew they would. After about a half hour or so, they were done with the interrogation. I was actually pretty bored through the whole thing. And it's not like it mattered. No one would believe the truth. No one except maybe Clive. I hated to admit it, but I was starting to like having him around. Maybe we would be friends after all.

"Hey, you. May I give ya a bit of advice?" It was the bigger guard, Fisheye.

"Uh, I-I guess." I mumbled warily.

"Don't get too close to that Clive boy ya share a cell with. He's not the kind of person ya wanna get caught up with."

"Huh?" I didn't understand. He was so nice. "Why not?"

"Ya may not wanna know. I wouldn't wanna scare ya."

I was very confused by this. Clive wouldn't hurt me… would he?

"If ya must know, that kid's a killer. I wouldn't wanna trust him if I were ya."

I felt myself go pale. I suddenly felt lightheaded. Clive?A killer? I couldn't believe it.

"He acts like he's softened up, but truly he's never been cured. It's all a scam. Ya get too close, ya pay the price."

And to think I was starting to trust him.

I couldn't imagine him actually killing someone with a knife. He must have found other methods to do it. Like poison. Now I was glad I hadn't let him get that glass of water. He probably would have tainted it.

My cellmate was a murderer. I would need to be careful. Very, very careful.

_He must have dozed off, because when he awoke the girl was back. She was sitting in her little corner as usual. Watching him as usual. _

"_You're back!" he called out. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you? Oh, thank goodness you're back." _

_He stopped as he saw something startling. She was scared stiff of him now, as still as a stone statue. She was petrified with panic, as pale as a piece of paper. It was quite queer. _

"_What happened? What's wrong? What did they do to you?" he asked in a quiet tone. _

"_Was-was it something I said?" his voice was now filled with distress. Why wouldn't she talk to him? What had he done? _

_She would not answer him. She just watched him weakly, frozen with fright. _

It made me sick how he could feign innocence like that. And it looked so real, too. I was further sickened by the realization that this was one of his methods. He would first try to gain my trust, then he'd betray me when I least expected it. Sick, just sick. How could he be so cruel?

It hurt to learn that the first friend I ever almost made was a murderer, his friendliness as artificial as… as… I couldn't even think of words to describe how artificial it was. It was sick, twisted, vile, abhorrent, warped, crooked, shady, gruesome, repulsive, foul, disgusting, enraging, inflaming, vexatious, and just plain horrific. He was a terrible person. He was not to be trusted.

Though I was angry, I was also more afraid than ever. I knew I could be killed any second.

I refused to say a word, no matter how distressed he seemed. I wouldn't let him win.

"Miss, please say something, anything, I don't care what it is." Clivewas begging now. He appeared to be very distraught. That'd show him.

"Miss, I need you to say something. I need to know that they didn't harm you. You can't possibly continue disregarding me like this forever!"

I paid no attention to his insignificant pleas. I prohibited myself from conversing with a murderer.

He sighed in exasperation. "Will you at least tell me your name so I can stop calling you miss? I told you mine, and nothing's happened. It's not that big of a deal."

Silence.

Finally, he gave in. "Fine. Go ahead and be that way. That is, if your actually there. For all I know you could be a hallucination. Maybe all this time alone has at last driven me mad. Completely and irreversibly mad." He smiled at the floor, laughing at himself. "That's it, isn't it? I've gone mad. The second I get out of this confinement, they'll send me straight to an asylum. I've been isolated so long, I'm imagining people."

I know I shouldn't have, but I started feeling truly repentant for what I'd done to Clive. He was in such a sorry state, I almost forgot why he was in prison. The poor, pathetic, pitiful thing. I knew it was risky, very risky, and I was probably feeding into his plan, but I had to do something.

"You're not going crazy, Clive. I'm not an apparition, or anything like that. I'm just not supposed to talk to you. That's all.

He lifted his head. "So you're real, then? I'm not dreaming?"

"No, Clive. You're not dreaming," I reassured him.

"Good. But why aren't you allowed to talk to me? Did the threaten you? Blackmail? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

I shook my head.

"Then why?"

I shifted uncomfortably. I couldn't tell him. If he knew that I knew that he was a murderer, he would have to kill me, even if he wasn't planning on it now.

He started getting upset again. "Oh, no. Please don't shut me out again. It was bad enough the first time; I couldn't stand it if you did it again!"

"I can't tell you, ok? Calm yourself. I'm perfectly fine."

He seemed to calm down after that. "Sorry about all the fuss I was making. I was worried sick over you."

I knew I should have been grateful for his concern, but it infuriated me. "What do you care?" I demanded, standing up. "You don't know me. What difference would it make to you if I died right now?"

_He was astonished and hurt by this comment. This was not at all what he had expected her to say. He was left speechless for a while._

_He must have hesitated too long, for the girl was eyeing him with a countenance of great impatience. "Give me an answer. What difference would it make?"_

_He stared at her, not knowing what to say._

_His silence seemed to verify her statement. "I didn't think so," she said. She sat back down in her little corner and leaned against the wall. After a few minutes of staring at him, she put her head down and fell asleep. _

_He watched her for a while, dumbstruck. Did that really just happen? _

_He slowly started to understand what he had just done. He had just completely demolished any chance he had of friendship with the girl. His heart sank as he realized that he had an opportunity to gain her companionship, and he threw it out the window._

_He cared an awful lot for the girl, though he didn't understand the reason. He did not want her to think otherwise. She already thought that it wouldn't matter to him if she died. But he felt the opposite. He would be devastated if something happened to her. She was so innocent. Too innocent. He found himself wondering again how she had ended up here._

Chapter 4

I woke up the next day to find myself alone. Clivewas gone. Not that I cared, of course; it didn't matter to me where he went. Yet still, I couldn't help wondering where he had gone off to. I was especially confused because of one, small detail: this was a prison. How could he have gotten out?

Unless… he was released? No, someone who had committed the kind of crimes that he had perpetrated would surely be in custody for longer than that.

Maybe he had escaped? No, he would have been caught.

An interrogation, possibly? At this hour, though? I doubted it. It would have had to have been the night before. And he would have been back by now.

So the only explanation left was that he… no. No. He couldn't have… could he?

The only explanation left was that he was dead.

No. That couldn't be possible. The last time I saw him, he was in perfect health.

Even though I knew it was very unlikely, I couldn't help worrying. After all, the place was corrupted. What if they had killed him?

When they took me in for questioning, Clivehad looked scared. Maybe that was why.

_He was walking through the hallway, his head down, knowing Fisheye was behind him. The last thing he wanted was for Fisheye to know that he was afraid of him. _

_The only reason Fisheye was there was because he was not allowed to leave the cell without a guard. And Fisheye had decided that he would be his guard—permanently. _

"_So, whatever happened to that girl ya share a cell with? Ya getting friendly with her yet? Seems like she don't like ya." _

"_She's just shy," he said defensively. "She'll get used to me eventually."_

_The guard laughed. "I doubt it. She's never gonna get used to nobody."_

"_Huh?" the boy looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean? Why not? What are you planning on doing with her?" He could hear the anxiety creeping into his voice. _

_He laughed again, a cruel, menacing laugh. "Nothing that bad. But it'll be enough… for her" _

_What? They couldn't do that! They wanted retaliation against him. Why did they have to bring her into this? _

"_Leave her alone," he demanded. "She has nothing to do with this."_

_As he watched Fisheye smirk and laugh and sneer at him, he felt himself growing exceedingly angry. Fisheye obviously enjoyed toying with him; he knew that the guard wanted to see his reaction. He could not let that happen. Instead, he calmed himself by convincing himself that the girl was safe. _

_When the guard saw that his torments were not having as much of an effect as he had anticipated, he tried a different approach. "You know," he said, leaning in close, "We may hurt the girl pretty badly, but it'll be nothing compared to what we'll do to you." _

_He tried to back away, but Fisheye grabbed his arm and twisted it. He cried out in pain._

"_I'm sorry, am I hurting you?" he continued laughing as the boy fought back tears. It was plain to see that this man enjoyed nothing more than seeing him in pain. He tried to pull away, but could not succeed. Fisheye was just too strong for him._

"_By the time we're done with ya, ya'll be so deformed that ya won't even be able to recognize ya self. And that girl of yours? We'll kill her. And just to torture ya further, we'll make ya watch."_

_Fisheye continued dragging him throughout the hallway, making sure to take the longest route possible so he did not have stop torturing the boy. "As for your punishment, ya'll be begging us to kill ya. But we ain't gonna kill ya. We're gonna just keep torturing ya 'til ya can't take it no longer. Ya won't be able to endure it forever. I promise ya that. "_

_He glared at the guard. "I don't care what you do to me. Just leave her out of this. She's done nothing to you, she doesn't deserve it." _

_A flash of pain shot up his arm as Fisheye tightened his grip. "Ya think I care? She's nothing but a distraction. She's there to make sure your life ain't completely miserable. And we can't allow that, now can we?" _

"_I-I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, stumbling along as Fisheye dragged him back to his cell._

"_No use lying to me, kid. I see how ya light up when ya see her. I see how ya get all cheerful when she decides to talk to ya. I see how ya get scared when she decides not to. And since ya seem to love her company so much, we got no choice but to take it from ya." _

_The guard was holding him so tightly that he could no longer feel his arm. He tried not to let Fisheye see that his words hurt him. "But why do you have to hurt her? Why can't you just get your revenge? Why do you need to get the innocent involved?" _

"_Don't ya get it? No one is innocent," he muttered. "No. One."_

_The guard's voice seemed to get deeper and grimmer as he said it. The harshness of the man's voice scared him. And it scared him even more that Fisheye had meant what he said. He truly believed that no one was innocent. _

I was still waiting for Clive to return when the cell flew open. It was the smaller guard, the one whose name I did not know. He searched the cell before asking, "Clive back yet?"

I shook my head. "Do-do you know where he is?" I asked timidly.

He shrugged. "No clue."

"Then how do you know he left?" I asked

"Simple. 'Cause he's not here."

"Not what I meant. I meant how do you know he's coming back?"

"'Cause he has to."

"But—" I was tempted to ask more about Clive, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to seem interested. "But how do you know he's coming back? How do you know he isn't trying to escape?"

The guard laughed. "Clive would never try to escape. He wants to atone for his actions. Or so he says." He sounded doubtful.

I don't know why, but his doubt enraged me. "If Clive says he's trying to make up for what he's done, I'm sure he means it!" I said loudly.

He shrugged again. "Whatever you say, missy. Just wanted to give you this."

He held out a sword. My sword. The one my father had given to me as a child.

"I thought you weren't supposed to have weapons in prison." I said.

He shrugged for a third time. "I dunno. I just do what they tell me to do. Besides, you're up against Clive**. **You're gonna need it."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but I took it anyway. It felt so natural. The feel of it, the heaviness, the coolness of the handle… it just felt… right, somehow. Like it was meant for me.

"Also, I was told to give you these." He handed me my notebook, a pencil, and my computer. He also handed me a second notebook, labeled 'personal thoughts'.

"Thank you," I said. "I thought I lost all this."

"Yeah well, your father told me to bring this to you. There's a spy program on the computer, so you can see the cell from the security cameras. You know, in case you wanna learn something. Something that a certain person might not want you to know." He winked as he said it and I knew that he was talking about Clive.

I flipped through the pages of my notebook, remembering every word of everything I had ever written in it. I was so glad to finally have it back. Most of the writing was illegible, but all I needed was the first word or so; I had the rest committed to memory.

"I gotta go." The guard said. "When the kid gets back, though, be sure not to listen to him. He's crazy, got no idea what he's talking about."

His statement annoyed me, but I decided not to say anything. If I defended Clive, the guards might start to think that something was going on. So I just said "ok," and went back to my little corner.

_He stumbled along behind Fisheye, waiting as patiently as he could to get to his cell. The taunts, insults, and death threats did not cease even for a moment. He said nothing, only listened and absorbed the hurtful words spoken by his former associate. _

_He could not be more relieved when they got to the cell. Fisheye seemed as if he could not be more disappointed. He threw the door open. "Next time. Next time you'll pay." The guard kicked him as he entered the cell, almost knocking him over. He turned to glare at the guard, but he just laughed intimidatingly and slammed the cell door. _

I was surprised at how happy I was to see Clive.I mean, I was glad he was ok, and I had hoped he was safe, but it wasn't like I really knew him. Why was I so happy that he was back?

He went to sit down in his normal spot, but I noticed that he was sitting a little closer to me than normal. This made me curious. After a few moments hesitation, I decided to ask some questions.

I tilted my head curiously. "Where were you?" I asked.

"The breakfast hall. They let us out every morning, but you need a guard to be with you. I would have asked you to come, but I didn't want to wake you." He smiled at me, that same friendly, shy, sympathetic smile he always uses.

I didn't smile back. "The guard was looking for you. The small, pale one that's always with Fisheye."

"Huh?" he asked, more from nervousness than confusion. "Wonder what he wants." He gazed at me, his voice suddenly becoming solemn. "His name is Lockjaw, by the way. He and Fisheye are out to get me. I only took longer than usual because Fisheye took me. He dragged me throughout the hallway threatening me after I was done. "

"Why?" I asked inquisitively.

He sighed. "It's a long story," he replied. Then he looked at me, dismally and uneasily. "Listen to me; you need to stay away from Fisheye," he said pleadingly. "I can't risk you getting hurt, I just can't. Lockjaw has always been soft, he won't hurt you. He wouldn't be able to. But Fisheye…" he shook his head, as if the thought was too horrible to say.

"If he's out to get you, then why would you go with him?"

"I didn't have a choice. He forced me."

"But won't he get in trouble for hurting you?"

"Unfortunately, no. This is no ordinary prison. Otherwise, we would be in uniforms, and given food that is actually edible. It probably would taste horrible, but at least it would be fit for human consumption. I've heard that some people have been poisoned eating the food here. Not to scare you, but it's probably safer not eating."

I decided to change the subject. "But why are they out to get you? And what do they want with me?"

"I told you, it's a long story. They're probably only after you to upset me."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked suspiciously. I noticed again how he was closer to me than usual. A lot closer. I compressed myself into my little corner, not wanting to be so close to him, or to anyone for that matter. He was still a good three feet away, but still. I needed my personal space.

He sighed, noticing my discomfort. He got up slowly, walked equally slowly to the corner opposite me, and sat down. "There. Does that make you more comfortable?"

I did not acknowledge him, though it truthfully did make me more comfortable. A lot more comfortable. But I just stared at him, hoping he wouldn't start asking me questions.

Unfortunately for me, that's exactly what he started doing. "So, what is your name?" he asked.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Do-do I have to answer that?"

"_Huh?" he said, confused. Why did she refuse to say her name? It was out of trying to be polite that he asked. He did not want to call her 'Miss' anymore when he knew that obviously was not her name. _

_She looked embarrassed. Was it because of her name? Did she even have a name? _

"_You-you do have a name, don't you?" he inquired, realizing it never occurred to him to ask._

_She shook her head. "No. No I don't." she looked away._

"_Oh. I-I'm sorry I-I didn't know," he murmured. _

"_That's ok. You couldn't have known." She kept her head down._

_For some unknown reason, he felt compelled to keep the conversation going. "So what should I call you then? Just Miss? Or is there something else you'd like me to call you?"_

I wasn't sure why he wanted to know my name so badly. I truly wouldn't be on edge telling him—that is, if I had one. Since he looked desperate, I decided that I needed to come up with something swiftly. He had been very patient with me so far, but who knows how long that would last?

Just then, a strand of my hair fell in front of my face. A strand of my magenta hair. And that's when I got an idea.

"Magenta," I said. "Call me Magenta."

He smiled at me. "Ok. I will." He gazed at me, and I kept an eye on him. Neither of us looked away for a long time. When I finally looked away, he shifted in discomfort, upset that I was no longer watching.

"Have you eaten at all since you got here?" he asked, looking up at me.

I realized that I hadn't. "No," I said. "No I haven't."

"That's not good. It's been three days." He looked serious.

I looked down shyly. "I know. I guess I was just too upset to eat."

He nodded knowingly, staring at the floor. "I know exactly how you feel. During my first week or so here I almost starved myself I was so upset." Then he glanced at me. "It's not healthy, you know. You need to eat."

I nodded. "I know that. I just don't know… well, pretty much anything else," I admitted.

"Hmm." He watched me for a while. "Well, you won't need to worry about that much longer," he said.

"And why is that? I asked.

"Because they're changing the system. Soon enough we won't be allowed out our cells for even a second unless told to by a guard. All food will be brought straight to the cells." He smiled at me. "Tomorrow is our last day of half-freedom. Would you like to go with me?"

I hesitated. I knew he was only trying to be friendly, and I felt bad refusing. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that he knew something I didn't. A lot of things I didn't.

After a few minutes, I realized he was still waiting for an answer. I nodded yes, figuring I could always back out later.

He grinned at me. "Then it's settled," he said. "But I'll warn you, you'll have to wake up very early."

I thought about it. "I think I'll be ok," I said.

"I'll wake you if you'd like," he offered.

I decided to just go with it. I could always change my mind later if I got uncomfortable. "Ok," I replied, and it was set. I'd get my first prison meal tomorrow. Truthfully, I wasn't sure if I should be looking forward to it or dreading it.

He had seemed to be satisfied when he suddenly grew rigid. "Wait. If you haven't eaten, does that mean you haven't had anything to drink either?"

I shook my head. "They gave me water during the interrogation. They gave me food too, but I didn't eat it. I was afraid it was poisoned. I did drink the water though."

He looked relieved. "Thank goodness," he said. "A person can only live three days or so without water. You've been here three days exactly now, have you not?"

I nodded. "But I haven't had anything since then, and that was yesterday."

He looked down. "I don't intend to be rude, but you'd better start getting used to it. We don't get much attention here."

I knew he was being honest. I doubted they would even treat a severe injury with their lack of supervising. They just didn't care.

Then I started thinking. Was that why he was being so nice to me? Was he just desperate for attention? He was desperate, alright. But for what? I added 'attention' to my mental list of things that Clive might want from me.

He tilted his head curiously as he noticed my computer and notebooks. "What's all that?" he asked. "They allowed you to have your possessions with you? That's an extremely rare occurrence." He smirked at me, as if asking how I'd tricked them into letting me have my stuff.

I scowled. "I didn't trick them. They just gave it to me."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Miss Magenta."

Though I was a little annoyed that he didn't believe me, I was happy that he had used my name. It felt right. I would no longer be called 'Miss', or 'Girl', or 'You'. At least, not by Clive.

I decided to play along with his little game. "Actually, it was Lockjaw who gave it all to me. That's one of the reasons he was here. The other, of course, was to find you."

He went pale. "Oh," he whispered. I had him now.

"So, now do you believe me?" I asked craftily.

"Uh, yes, of course," he said, still whispering. He was staring at the wall in front of him, as if there was some kind of invisible object that only he could see. It was like he was in a trance.

"Clive? Are… are you ok? Come on, snap out of it." He still didn't move. "Clive, if this is part of your little game, then you win, ok? If you're just trying to scare me, it's working. You can stop now." He sat there like a stone statue, white as a ghost and not even blinking. "Clive, please," I whispered. "You're scaring me."

Then he shook his head, the color returning to his face. "What? Oh, of course. Terribly sorry. I-I lost myself for a moment there."

"What happened?" I asked. The anxiety in my voice was unmistakable.

"It-it's really nothing. Don't worry about me." His expression was one of great discomfort.

I decided to drop the subject for now. I gave him a suspicious look, then asked him, "So, why were you so surprised that they gave me my belongings?"

"Well, usually they never give anything to anyone. They only take away everything that's important to you." His voice took on a bitter tone.

I could tell he was no longer talking to me. He was lost in his own world of agony and resentment.

"Clive?" I spoke softly, hoping not to anger the boy. I only wanted to calm him down. I needed more answers.

"Huh?" he looked at me as if it were the first time he'd ever seen me.

"You started getting really upset. I'm sorry if I troubled you. I just can't seem to find a topic that isn't off limits."

He sighed. "It's quite alright. You deserve to know the truth." He gazed at me sadly. "Though I suppose it is considered something of a sob story. If you think you can handle it, then I will be glad to tell you."

His words had a different tone then his countenance. He tried to force a smile and tried to make his words sound uncaring, but I knew that it was the last thing he wanted to talk about. I let him keep his secrets. After all, I had so many of my own that I couldn't very well criticize him for it.

"I won't make you tell," I told him.

He looked relieved. "I'll still tell you what you want to know, but if it's all the same to you then I'd prefer to keep the more personal parts to myself."

Completely understandable. I felt the same way myself.

"Well, my behavior before was because I was frightened by the information you gave me."

"Wait—what information?" I was confused.

"About Lockjaw looking for me. I got scared." He stared at the floor. "I've been terrified of them ever since I got caught. They take every chance that they get to torment me in any way imaginable. It's like they live solely to harm me."

I felt horrible. I knew he was telling the truth.

He gazed at me. "I-I should probably stop. I don't want to frighten you."

I laughed in amusement. "After everything I've seen, I doubt that you could scare me."

"Oh really?" he raised his eyebrow.

"Try me."

He looked uncomfortable. "I-I'm not sure I want to do that."

"It's ok. I'm sure I can handle it."

He shook his head. "No. I can't even handle it. There's no way you can handle it. I can't even handle it. Don't make me say it. I can't even handle it." He gazed at me pleadingly.

"You-you do know you said that three times, right?"

"Sorry. I-I just—well, you know." He blushed.

"That's ok. I understand if you don't want to talk about it.

_He couldn't have been more relieved. The horrors he had experienced were permanently imprinted in his memory, and it was useless to try to erase them, but the last thing he wanted was to reveal those horrors to Magenta. After all, she was only… how old was she again? _

"_Magenta, I don't mean to pry, but how old are you?" _

"_Twelve," she replied. _

"_Twelve? You're only twelve!" he exclaimed. _

_She nodded. "How old did you think I was?"_

"_I always thought you were at least fourteen! I can't believe this! Twelve! Are you really that young? How could this be?"_

_She shrunk back a little. _

_When he saw that she was growing nervous, he stopped._

"_My apologies, Miss Magenta. I-I didn't mean to obsess. I just—I thought—oh, I don't know. He looked down, ashamed. Why had he made such a big deal over her age? He had probably made her uneasy and self-conscious. _

_She didn't speak to him after that. She was obviously done talking for today. He wondered if she would ask him more questions tomorrow, and how he would answer them. He didn't want her to ask questions only to be disappointed with the answer. He felt awful having not answered her, but it was just too soon. He was not ready._

_He looked over at the corner to see Magenta staring at him. Her eyes widened and she looked down, turning bright red. _

_He smiled. He could tell that she was the kind of person that wanted all of the details, even the sick, twisted ones, even the tragically sad ones, even the cruel jokes of life that twist the story into something awful. She was the kind of person that rehabilitated others; the kind of person who could calm down anyone. He was glad that she was so caring, even when she was nervous. _

_As he glanced back over at her, he noticed that now she was looking at everything and anything but him. His heart sank. What had he done? Had he embarrassed her? Was she mad at him? He hoped not. _

_He tried desperately to get some sleep, but he couldn't manage to calm down. Instead he leaned back against the wall, wondering what he'd done wrong._

Chapter 5

I was not yet satisfied with what I had learned. I had found some things, but I still didn't know everything. At least I had a start—I could have been left knowing nothing. As I tried to wrap my head around what I'd learned. I realized that I was writing. I looked down and saw that I was holding the notebook that Lockjaw had given me, and I was writing down everything that had happened since I had gotten to the prison. I was so surprised that I stopped at first, but then I realized that it was a really good idea, and I continued writing. I wrote not only events—that would have been boring. I also wrote about people, like Fisheye and Lockjaw and Clive, and my opinions on everything that had happed so far. I knew something was going on; something that included me, though I wasn't sure how. I was missing something—that I knew. I just didn't know what.

I wasn't sure how long I had been writing. I looked over at Clive once to see if he was still awake, but the shadows cast from the light in the hallway covered his face and I couldn't tell. I kept writing until I fell into a restless sleep.

…I was running. My heart was pounding. There was lots of noise, but all I could hear was the tick-tick-ticking of the bomb. I needed to get out.

All of a sudden, there was a loud, booming explosion. I was thrust backwards by the force of the blow. All I could see was smoke. I held my breath, my nose burning with the smell of the fumes. There was gas and smoke and ashes surrounding me. I knew that it was too late to escape. I was out of time.

I heard many people screaming in the chaos, but I recognized one voice right away. It was Clive.

After the smoke had finally cleared and I could breathe again, I started my search for Clive. He was easy to spot, and I found him almost immediately. He was hurt, but he was alive. I knelt down and tried to help him, but he was unconscious and I couldn't do much of anything.

Suddenly, he stirred, as if he was waking up. I jumped up immediately and hid behind the remains of a small pillar. It was almost completely destroyed, but it was just large enough that I could remain out of sight.

"Magenta?" he whispered. "Magenta? Is that you?"

I said nothing, just stayed where I was, hidden from view.

His voice took on a panicked tone. "Magenta! Please! If you're there, please come out! Please help me!"

I started to emerge from my hiding place, but it was no use. Everything was fading, turning bright white, and I couldn't see anything anymore. All I could hear was Clive's voice echoing in my head, screaming, "Magenta! Please help me!"…

I woke with a start, and out of habit grabbed my notebook. I had always considered it my good luck charm, as nothing's ever happened to me when I was holding it. The bad things happened when I lost it, or when it was stolen, or when a page was ripped out, or something like that.

I looked around to see if Clive was ok, and was surprised to see that he was hovering over me.

"Magenta!" he whispered urgently. "Magenta, please!"

"I'm awake," I said.

He looked relieved. "I-I'm sorry for waking you, but—"

"A bad dream?" I asked.

He looked at me sheepishly. "How-how did you know?"

I shrugged. "I guess because I had one too."

For a moment, he just sat there awkwardly. "Well, I know it's childish, but—well, I just—oh, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to, you know, talk about it."

"Was it about the bomb?" I asked quietly.

He froze. "How—" he stopped, unable to continue.

"Because I had the same one." I spoke softly, hoping to calm the both of us down. I knew it wouldn't work. There's only one reason why we would have the same dream:

It was going to come true.

I could see that he was trying to remain calm, probably for my sake. I hadn't been harmed in the dream. Why did he look so scared?

Then I realized—I hadn't been harmed; he had.

My fear diminished as I saw how helpless he looked. I had to do something. I had to help.

"It's ok, Clive. You're safe. Nothing can happen to you right now."

"How can you be so sure?" he whispered.

"Shhh." I said.

Complete silence.

"See?" I said. "You're safe.

He looked confused. "What does that prove?" he asked.

"Listen," I told him. "There's no ticking."

He paused for a few moments, then nodded, realizing it was true.

"It's just—I-I saw myself, lying on the ground. Then you were searching for me, and you didn't find me, and I was sure I was dead."

I stared at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? Of course I found you."

He returned my confused stare. "You-you did?"

I nodded. "Yes, Clive, I did. I found you, and then you woke up and I ran and hid, and then you were calling for me, and I was about to come out when I woke up."

He gave me a halfhearted smile. "Thank you, Magenta, but you don't need to make up stories just to humor me."

"But I'm not making it up. That's really what happened," I said, hurt.

"Don't lie to me, Magenta. Please. Don't lie to me like that."

"I'm not lying." I felt deflated. Why didn't he believe me?

"Really, Magenta, I appreciate it, but I'd prefer if you told me the truth. I know what's going to happen to me. It's no use denying it."

"Why don't we just change the subject?" I said crossly. Go ahead and think you're going to die. Stress yourself out over nothing. See if I care.

"I guess I should go now," he said unenthusiastically. He looked reluctantly over to the corner opposite me. Then he gazed at me hopefully.

I sighed, smiling despite myself. "Fine. You can stay."

His face lit up.

"On one condition." I said.

He froze, waiting.

I waited for a few moments, until he started fidgeting with impatience.

"What's the condition?" he finally asked.

"Try, just try to keep some distance."

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, of course," he said. "I can do that."

"Good." I said.

I could tell that I was in control for now. Clive might be four years older than me, but he was like a lost child. He needed someone to rely on. And with nobody left, he was relying on me.

Holding onto that thought, I curled up in my little corner and fell back asleep.

Chapter 6

"Magenta," a voice whispered. "Magenta, wake up. It's morning."

I lifted my head sleepily. "What do you want now, Clive?"

"It's morning. You need to get up."

"But why?" I whined.

"You promised that you'd go with me to the breakfast hall. It's our last day, remember?"

"Fine. I'll get up." I grumbled.

Clive was smiling at me, his usual half-friendly, half-sympathetic smile.

"Stop looking at me like that," I said in annoyance.

"Like what?"

"You know, like that. The way that you always do."

"Wow. That explanation was really helpful," he said sarcastically.

I ignored his sarcasm. "So are we going or not?"

"We are, but we have to wait for a guard to take us."

Five minutes later, the door opened. "Anyone for the breakfast hall?" said a familiar voice. It was Fisheye. Lockjaw stood beside him, and they both stared directly at Clive.

Clive went pale. He turned to me, and I knew I had to take over. I rolled my eyes, but all I said was, "Actually, both of us," and then I stepped out into the hallway, with Clive right behind me.

"I'll take Clive," Fisheye told Lockjaw. "Take the girl."

Clive looked positively white. Before Fisheye could grab him I stepped in front, blocking him. "Um, actually, Fisheye, I was wondering if we could switch."

Fisheye looked annoyed. "Why?" he demanded.

My mind went blank. "Well, um, I wanted to ask you a question," I blurted.

"Ask it now."

I glanced over at Clive, suddenly nervous. When I looked back at Fisheye, he seemed to notice my discomfort.

"Ah. So ya wanna get away from the boy, do ya?" he said, misinterpreting my discomfort.

I nodded. Not because it was true, but because I knew Clive would be more comfortable if he was away from Fisheye. I needed to do this for him.

_He felt a small twitch of panic. What was she doing? She would be so much safer if she went with Lockjaw. _

_She looked over at him again and her eyes locked on his. At that moment, he realized—she was doing this for him. _

_He stared at her apprehensively, silently willing her not to do this. She stared back at him, and he knew that she would not listen to him. _

_She turned back to Fisheye. "A moment, please?"_

_Fisheye nodded and she walked over to him. _

_He grabbed her arm. "Are you insane!" he whispered fiercely._

_She pulled away. "I was trying to do you a favor. I know how much Fisheye scares you, and I thought you would be more comfortable with Lockjaw."_

"_I'd be more comfortable knowing that you were safe," he told her._

"_Clive, I'll be fine. Just calm yourself, will you?"_

"_I will not calm myself!" _

_She rolled her eyes at him. "You're too sensitive."_

"_I'm not being sensitive, Magenta! You don't know what Fisheye is capable of! He could kill you!_

_He could even kill me!" _

"_I'm sure he could, but he's smarter than that."_

_He looked down at her curiously. "What do you mean?" _

"_I mean that Fisheye isn't just going to kill me. He'll try to gain my trust first. He would have killed me already if he didn't have some use for me."_

"_Maybe so, but he could still do any number of things to you."_

Clive was really annoying me now. Why did he have to be so apprehensive all the time? And I thought I was nervous all the time.

He grabbed my arm again, pulling me close. "Listen to me," he whispered viciously, "You are not going to risk your life like this, you hear me? You will do as I say and stay away from Fisheye. Got it?"

I tried to pull away, but I couldn't.

"No!" he said. "You are not going anywhere until you promise not to go near him. I will not let you out of my sight unless I know that you are safe."

"C-Clive, you're hurting m-me. P-please, s-stop!"

He loosened his grip, but his gaze held mine. I was more afraid than ever.

He let go. "Just be careful, ok?" he said quietly. Then he walked over to Lockjaw and I walked over to Fisheye.

"See? What did I tell ya," Fisheye said. He glanced at Clive disdainfully. "Keep as much distance from him as possible. He's like a koala all sweet and innocent looking. But if ya get too close, ya get scratched."

I nodded silently and followed. "Why do we have to be separated? Couldn't we all just go together?"

"What? Who?"

"You know, Clive and Lockjaw. Why do they have to be separated from us?"

"The hallway starts to get really narrow. There's not enough room for four of us to fit."

I nodded and said nothing for the rest of the walk.

_He walked slowly, his head down. Lockjaw was not as terrifying as Fisheye, but he was still an enemy. He would have to be careful._

_Lockjaw seemed just as nervous as he did. "So, uh, Clive. How've you been?"_

_He did not answer right away. After a few minutes hesitation, he said, "You don't have to try and make conversation, Lockjaw."_

"_I-I know that. I was just trying to be friendly. You know, show some respect."_

_He stared. "You do know that you don't work for me anymore, right?"_

"_Of course I know that," he said indignantly._

"_Then why are you acting so nice? I thought you were trying to kill me." _

"_That's more of Fisheye's goal. I'm just in it for the pay."_

_He froze. "Fisheye is… paying you?"_

_Lockjaw nodded. "Sure is. And it's a whole lot of money, too." _

_He felt the blood drain from his face._

_Lockjaw peered at him. "You ok, kid?" he asked. _

_He shook his head. "The punishment is always worse when there's money involved." He turned to face the guard. "What do you want with her," he asked hoarsely. _

"_With who?"_

"_Magenta. The girl. What are you going to do to her?"_

_Lockjaw shrugged. _

"_You have to know something!" _

_Lockjaw shrugged again._

_He sighed. He had forgotten just how stupid Lockjaw was. He was stupid and ignorant and easy to manipulate. That had been why he had been able to recruit Lockjaw in the first place._

"_Lockjaw, that girl means a lot to me. She's my only chance of ever having a friend again. You can't possibly be so cruel as to take her away from me!" _

"_That's not my choice, kid. It's Fisheye's. If it were me, I wouldn't hurt her. I mean, she's just a little girl. She can't fend for herself." _

_He could feel the anger rising up inside of him. Magenta was most certainly able to fend for herself! She had been able to when he couldn't. That proved just how capable she was!_

"_I think she can fend for herself," he growled. "As a matter of fact, I know she can! I just know that Fisheye is very powerful, and she might not be able to fight him. If I can't, I don't know if she can."_

"_Calm down, calm down. No need to go berserk, kid."_

"_Stop calling me that." He was starting to get very annoyed with Fisheye and Lockjaw calling him 'kid' all the time. He hated that nickname more than anything._

_Finally, they made it to the breakfast hall. Immediately he broke away from Lockjaw, and started looking for Magenta. _

I was walking through the breakfast hall. I had no clue what to do. Why had I agreed to this anyway? My stomach growled and I remembered why. I had been starving. Literally.

I had somehow been separated from Fisheye. Though I had been somewhat relieved at the time, now I would have been relieved to have someone, anyone with me.

I couldn't find anything that looked edible. I was so busy searching for food that I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and I crashed into someone.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry!" I said. Then I saw him.

"Barton? Is that you?"

"Miss, how good to see you again." Barton looked pleased.

"Barton!" I cried. Seeing the officer again made me so happy. Barton was one of the two officers that were working on my case, and one of the only people I knew that believed in my innocence. He was a short man, and slightly round, with brown hair and a moustache.

"Sorry to disappoint, Miss, but we have yet to find any evidence. I'm afraid this is taking much longer than we had hoped."

"That's ok, Barton. And please, call me Magenta."

"I see you've made a friend," said a voice from behind me.

I jumped. "Don't do that, Clive! I almost had a heart attack! You could have killed me!"

Clive laughed.

"It's not funny. I'm being serious!" I cried.

"Alright, alright. I promise I won't do it again."

Then he turned to Barton. "And you are… oh." His face fell. "You."

Barton glared at him. "You."

Clive shifted nervously. "M-Barton. F-funny meeting you here." He reached up and grabbed his hat. "Uh, thanks again for recovering this for me."

"You're welcome," Barton replied warily.

There was a definite tension between them. I decided to intervene.

"So, Barton," I said. "How's Chelmey doing? Is he still yelling at you all the time? Why, with all the work you do, he should be the one getting yelled at! He sends you to do all the hard work, and then he takes all the credit! You deserve some kind of reward for that!"

I could see the small man's face turn bright red with embarrassment. "Well, Chelmey is being a little nicer lately, mostly because I haven't messed anything up for a while."

Chelmey is the other officer working on my case. He is of a higher position then Barton and tends to yell a lot. He is taller than Barton and has black hair. He also has a moustache.

"Well, why don't we see if we can find you some food, Magenta? Or have you eaten already?" Clive's voice had a slightly nervous tone to it.

"So, how do you two know each other," Barton asked, completely ignoring Clive.

"Uh, we, uh," Clive stammered.

"We share a cell," I interrupted, flashing Clive a look that said "Let me handle this".

He nodded and stepped behind me.

"How do you know Clive," I asked nonchalantly.

"I worked on his case," he answered. He wasn't looking at me when he said it. I realized he was staring straight at Clive.

Clive grabbed my arm. "Let's find you something to eat," he said again, and he led me away from Barton.

Barton didn't take the hint. Instead, he followed us. "Yes, you do look very thin indeed, Miss. We ought to get you something to eat."

I followed them to the line, which was empty except for one person. Again, I saw nothing. Then I looked again and I saw a plate with a blueberry tart on it. It looked perfectly fine, not like something that would be served to criminals.

Clive saw me staring. "Don't," he whispered.

Figures. It was probably poisoned.

In the end I settled for just a glass of water and something that looked like oatmeal. None of it tasted good, or even edible, but both Clive and Barton insisted I eat it. I noticed that Clive himself didn't eat anything. I wondered why.

"We should probably go back," Clive whispered.

I turned to ask why he was whispering, but the terrified look in his eyes stopped me. "Are-are you ok?" I spoke softly, wanting to reassure him.

"I-I'm fine. Don't worry about me." He glanced nervously towards Barton.

"Wait a minute—are you… are you scared of Barton?"

He turned red. "A little," he admitted, lowering his head.

"But why? He's so nice."

"Maybe to you, but he hates me. He's the one that arrested me." He reached up to touch his hat again. "When I lost my mind, I left my hat behind. Then the building was destroyed, and I thought I had lost it forever. I wanted more than anything to get it back. It-it reminded me of what it was like to be sane. Most people say that I hide behind it; use it to disguise myself. But I don't. I just—I feel like it's the only part of me that wasn't consumed by my madness."

I was unable to respond. He was so emotional about it. Poor Clive. Whatever he had done, it must have really scarred him.

"Ready to go back?" Barton chirped.

Clive jumped, grabbing my arm. For once, I didn't pull away.

"Yeah, I think so," I said.

We walked into the hallway, which, by the way, most certainly did not get narrower. Clive stood behind me, still clutching my arm. Barton was looking at him suspiciously.

"Clive, why don't you let go of Miss Magenta. I believe she would be much more comfortable if you released her."

"Uh," he said, reluctantly releasing my arm. He still stood very close to me.

"Now back away," Barton told him.

"What? Why! Wha-what did I do?" he whimpered, his voice panicked.

"You're too close. I don't trust that you won't try something."

"_What?" he whispered. "Why-why would you think I would—I would never—how could you say that?"_

"_It wouldn't be the first time you've hurt an innocent kid," the officer said, glaring. _

_The words stung. He had never meant to hurt anyone. Everyone considered him a monster, a fiend, a cruel person. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen. How had he been so wrong?_

"_Huh?" Magenta pulled away from him. _

"_Magenta, no," he said quietly. _

_She looked up at him nervously, and he knew that she would never believe him._

"_Magenta, please," he whispered. "I would never hurt you." He tried to get closer._

_She backed away. "Get-get away from me," she whispered. Her eyes were shining with fear._

_He lowered his head. "I'm sorry, Magenta. Please forgive me."_

_She said nothing._

_He felt crushed. He couldn't believe this. He couldn't bear the thought of her hating him. He needed her. He needed someone on his side and she was all he had left. He trudged through the hallway with his head down, saying nothing._

I was on edge after that. I needed to be very careful. What Barton said had scared me. But Clive had seemed… so offended; he had looked so hurt. I didn't know who to believe.

Barton had always been a caring person, and I knew that he was a little too cautious sometimes. He was probably worried for my safety, but most likely didn't have much of a reason.

But Clive was a criminal. He had done things that I didn't know about. How could I have trusted him so soon? I should have waited.

But he acted so innocent. So sweet. So helpless. I couldn't be mad at him. He needed me.

"What did the girly do?" said a loud, booming voice. It seemed to come out of nowhere.

I jumped, screamed, and hid behind Clive. As I peered out from behind him, I saw a huge man in a cell, laughing through the bars of the small window in the door. I cowered behind Clive, shaking in fear.

Clive smirked at me. "Well, I see you're finally warming up to me."

I backed away. "Wha-what? No! I-I just—"

He smiled at me, that stupid half sympathetic smile again. "No, no. It's quite alright. I never said I minded."

My face felt hot. I turned away, ashamed.  
He put a hand on my shoulder. "It's ok, Magenta. I won't hurt you."

At first I stopped, petrified with fear. Then I realized that he just didn't get it. He didn't understand that I was afraid of him. He thought he was helping.

I gave up. I didn't care anymore. I couldn't escape my fear. Why didn't I just face it?

We walked in silence the rest of the way. Barton glared at Clive every once and a while, and Clive flinched every time. I was uncomfortable either way, so I didn't care.

_He watched Magenta, careful not to get too close; now that he knew it still made her uncomfortable, he would have to keep his distance again._

_The poor girl was afraid to speak. He wanted to comfort her, but it seemed so impossible. He had tried to make her laugh; she cowered away. He tried to be sympathetic; she cowered away. He tried to be reassuring; she cowered away. He put a hand on her shoulder; she froze, too terrified to move._

_He felt deflated. Why didn't she trust him? It had been four days. _

_He stopped. Four days. It had only been four days. No wonder she was so afraid! He had been way too forward. He would have to calm himself. Overfriendliness was usually not a problem, but if it made Magenta this uncomfortable, he would have to try to be more restrained. _

_Once they were back in the cell, Barton pulled Magenta over to tell her something. He could not hear, she glanced over at him; he knew that he was the subject of their conversation. Then Barton waved goodbye and glared at him one last time before closing the door._

_Immediately Magenta sat down in her little corner, pulled out a notebook and started writing. He was extremely curious about this little book; he wondered desperately what was written inside. _

_Finally, he gathered enough courage to ask. "What are you writing?"_

_She shrunk away. "N-nothing," she whispered, slamming the book closed and holding it behind her back. _

"May-may I read it?" Clive tilted his head curiously.

I thought about it. He wouldn't be happy with what I wrote, I knew; I had written a lot about him. But he scared me, so reluctantly I handed it over.

"If you really don't want me to read it, I won't," he said, but his voice betrayed him. I could tell that he was dying to find out all the secrets that the notebook contained.

"I-I don't really care if you read it. It's not really personal or anything. I just don't want you to get mad at me." I didn't know what he was like when he was mad, but I most certainly did not want to find out.

"Why would I get mad?" he asked.

I felt a chill run down my spine. What should I say? "Um, I-I might have written some things about you. Things you might not like."

I watched fearfully as his expression darkened. "What kind of things?" he asked softly.

I looked up at him, confused. "Why-why do you sound so calm? You-you're not upset?"

"No," he whispered. "I'm not mad." Then he looked down at the notebook. "Should-should I be scared to read this?"

I shrugged. "It depends on how you interpret it. In truth, I feel that I'm the one who should be scared."

"_Nonsense," he said, slowly opening the book. "You have nothing to fear."_

_He read the first page, smiling as he remembered that first meeting, but slowly his smile faded. As he finished the page, he looked at her, offended. She looked away, ashamed. _

_Was this really what she thought of him? He read countless entries containing nasty comments about how he was a liar, a murderer, a horrible man. He almost dropped the book in despair. Magenta was no different from the rest. She likewise hated him, and would never dare let him befriend her. _

_He read all of the First and Second day entries, then closed the book, his face white with desolation. "Here," he said handing it back to her. "I'm done. I don't want to read it anymore."_

_She refused to take it. "Keep going," she insisted. "It gets better." Her eyes were filled with compassion. When he reopened the book, his hands were shaking. Magenta noticed. "It does get better," she told him. "A lot better." _

_Her eyes locked on his. Ashamed of himself, he looked away and continued reading._

_He expected to be hit with more nauseating remarks, but was surprised to find that the next entry took on a tone of concern. He remembered all too well; that had been the day that he had been stuck with Fisheye dragging him through the hallways. _

_She didn't separate the Third day into different entries. She kept it all as one big entry. _

_As he read it, the color returned to his face. The words were much kinder, much more forgiving. He realized that it was true; it did get a lot better. He also clarified that the girl was slowly warming up to him._

_He looked at Magenta. She was standing now, and she walked over to him. "You-you might want to sit down," she whispered._

_He did as he was told. "Wh-why?" he whispered. "Does-does it get worse again?"_

_She nodded. "I'm sorry, Clive. I didn't mean it. I need to write another entry after this. I truly don't think any of that anymore. _

"_Anymore. That means that you did." He looked up at her, hurt._

"_But I don't think that now." She spoke softly, staring down at him. _

_He looked away. "But-but why would you think that in the first place? I've never lied to you. I've never hurt you, or at least I've never tried to. I've always tried to be kind to you. Why would you think that I'd be so cruel?"_

_She sat down beside him. "I-I don't know."_

_He realized that this was the closest he had ever been to the girl. He was afraid to move, afraid of scaring her away. He couldn't risk losing her friendship, now that he almost had it. _

I knew how forward it seemed, but I had to comfort him. I didn't think that the entries would upset him so much. I felt so heartless, so cruel, so callous, so cold. I couldn't stand it.

Clive looked so hurt. I should never have thought that he would hurt me. He had relied on me, and I had let him down.

I reached out and lightly touched his arm. "You can read it whenever you want. I'll make sure to keep it updated." I was whispering.

He looked at me now. He looked so hurt.

I felt like crying. How could I have been so heartless? How could I have been so stupid? Clive wasn't the bad guy. I never should have listened to Fisheye.

"Please, stop looking at me like that," I pleaded. "You're killing me."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty."

"You make it so hard not to feel guilty," I told him.

He laughed. "You act like all this is my fault. Yet you seem so confident. How do you know that this is not a trap?"

My eyes widened. "It-it's not a trap, is it?" I whispered.

"Of course not. If it were a trap, why would I tell you?"

He smiled at me, that smile again. I couldn't help but smile back.

"I-I guess that makes me more comfortable," I said.

His face fell. "Oh no. Don't tell me I've done it again."

"Done what?" I asked.

"Made you uncomfortable." He looked at me solemnly.

His eyes locked on mine.

I couldn't look away. I couldn't move. I was caught in his gaze, and I couldn't free myself. If this had been his trap, then I had fallen for it. But I didn't care. I was willing to go along with it; I was willing to help him. I didn't care that he was considered a criminal. I believed him. I trusted him.

_He was staring at her, unable to look away. She still hadn't answered. What was happening? Why was he so mesmerized? _

_He nudged her gently. "Magenta? Are you ok?" He spoke softly, hoping she would be comforted by his voice. _

_She said nothing, only stared._

"_Magenta, you're scaring me. Please, snap out of it."_

_She suddenly jumped, as if she had been startled awake. "Huh?" she said._

"_Are you alright?" he asked._

"_Tell me what you did." She stared at him._

"_Wha-what?"_

"_Tell me what you did." He knew from the solemnity in her voice that she meant it._

_He shifted uncomfortably. "Magenta, it's really a personal thing. I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about it yet."_

"_Clive, I hate to do this to you, but I need to know." She stood up._

"_I-I can't. I'm not ready."_

"_You have to be," she exclaimed, clenching her fists._

"_M-magenta, p-please," he pulled away, suddenly fearful._

_She grabbed him. "Now, Clive. You're going to tell me now."_

"_Magenta, stop," he whimpered. He didn't want to admit it, but she was hurting him now._

_Slowly, she loosened her grip. "I-I-I'm s-so s-sorry C-Clive. I-I didn't m-mean it. R-really I didn't. P-please f-forgive me"_

"What-what happened to you?" he gasped.

"I-I don't know," I said. It was a lie.

I knew exactly why I had done it. It was the wraiths.

The wraiths had been following me for years, and they loved to torment me. Whenever I was about to learn something important, one of them took over me, made me go mad. I couldn't escape them; they were everywhere. I couldn't see them, but they could see me.

Despite what most people thought, the wraiths were solid; they had attacked me many times. They spoke in sinister, whispery voices, but as far as I know I'm the only one who can hear them.

I felt drained, as I always did when a wraith left my body. I felt myself weakening, and I fell.

Clive caught me, helping me sit up. "Are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

I nodded, but I knew it wasn't true. I had fallen victim to those stupid wraiths again.

Just then the door opened and a large group of guards walked in. They were carrying something, but I was too bleary-eyed with exhaustion

"What are they doing?" I asked.

"It's ok, Magenta. They're just putting up curtains."

"But there are no windows," I said, confused.

"Not that kind of curtain. They're separating the room."

"Oh," I said, but I still didn't get it.

There were a few minutes of commotion. I closed my eyes to try to escape the noise, which was fueling my headache. Then everyone was gone.

"Wha—where did everybody go?" I asked.

"They left about an hour ago."

"An hour ago!" I cried, suddenly alert.

He nodded. "You fell asleep. I wasn't sure what to do."

I blinked. "how long was I out?"

"About two hours. I was a little worried at first, but it gave you the rest that you needed."

I pulled away. "Why didn't you wake me up?" I said exasperatedly.

"I tried. Believe me I tried." He smirked at me. "It seems you were too comfortable to get up."

I felt my face flush. "Funny. I figured by day four you would know that I can't take a joke."

He laughed. "I don't think I believe that."

We just stared at each other for a while, but then Clive's expression turned grave. "What happened to you, Magenta?"

I looked away. I couldn't face him. I just couldn't. "I-I'm sorry, Clive. I didn't mean it. I know how crazy it sounds, but it wasn't me."

He stared, waiting for an explanation.

I sighed. "Ok, I'll tell you. But first, I have to ask you something, and you have to answer me, no matter how off topic it seems."

He nodded.

"Do-do you believe in… well, wraiths?"

"Wraiths?"

I nodded. "Wraiths. Ghosts, phantoms, spirits, wraiths."

He seemed to be weighing his options. "I-I don't really know. They've never been proven to exist, in a scientific sense, but they've never been proven to not exist either."

"Well, what if I told you that they did exist? And that I was being haunted by them?"

He froze. "What?"

I looked up at him fearfully, expecting to see him mocking me. But when I saw his expression filled with concern, I felt even more upset. "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

He shook his head. "No, no. Not at all."

I decided to confide in him. I told him about how the wraiths had been following me since I was six years old. I told him that they possessed me whenever they wanted to. I told him about the whispery voices that only I could hear. I told him everything, including the times that I had spent all night talking to them, trying to befriend them, trying to get them to leave me alone.

Clive listened intently, pausing to ask questions every once in a while. I could tell that he was intrigued by the stories, wanting to learn more.

When I was finally done, he placed his hand on mine. Staring at me, he said, "Don't worry. I'll help you through this."

I was very grateful for his help. He could have laughed at me; he could have been scared of me; he could have called me insane. But he hadn't done any of those things. He had listened; he had believed me; he had cared.

His hand was still on mine, and I was surprised when I realized that he was the one blushing.

"Thank you, Clive. Thank you so much." I hugged him, elated to finally have someone I could trust.

After that, I went back to my little corner with my notebook and started writing. I had a lot of good comments to record.

Chapter 7

_He was ecstatic. Magenta had finally decided to trust him. She had finally confided in him._

_He felt compelled to help the girl with her plight, though he did not know how. Haunted by wraiths? How was he supposed to help her with that?_

_But he had to. Now that she trusted him, he could not let her down. _

_She was in her little corner as usual, writing as usual in that little notebook of hers. She was so engrossed in her writing that she did not even look up until she closed the book, put the pencil down, and fell asleep._

_He stared at her curiously. How could such a small, sweet, innocent girl be stuck in this situation? What had she done to deserve this kind of punishment?_

_He had to find out. He couldn't help her if he didn't know. _

_Suddenly, he realized that he didn't know anything at all about this girl. Other than the whole story about the wraiths, he knew nothing. Why did he care so much about someone he knew so little about? _

_He shook the thought away. He knew the answer to that question. It was because she was so compassionate. She had cared about him when he needed help. She had talked to him when he was lonely. She had made him feel honest when he felt wicked._

_He couldn't bear it that Magenta had thought he would betray her. It made him sick. He would never dream of doing such a thing. He knew that she needed him just as much as he needed her. _

_He watched her for a while, wondering about her. He watched her until he fell asleep himself, dreaming about Magenta and who she really was._

I woke up in the middle of the night. It was quiet. Too quiet. I couldn't hear even any breathing.

Suddenly, an alarm rang out. There was a flash of blinding white light. Then everything went black.

"Magenta! Magenta, are you alright?" Clive called out.

"What's happening!" I cried.

A mechanical voice sang out, "This is a lockdown. I repeat, this is a lockdown." There was a loud crash. Then silence.

"C-Clive?" I whispered, too afraid to raise my voice.

"Magenta? Where are you?"

"I-I'm over here," I said, walking forward.

I crashed into someone. "Clive? Is that you?"

"I'm afraid not," said a voice.

I froze. "Who-who are you?" I whispered.

"That's not important right now. By the time the lights come back on I'll be gone."

I backed away. "Are-are you a wraith?"

The voice did not answer.

"Magenta! Clive screamed. "Where are you? Why can't I find you?"

"Don't worry. She's safe," the voice said. I could tell now that it was a boy, about my age. It was still dark, so I couldn't see him. He spoke very fast, and it was hard to understand what he was saying.

"Who's there? What was that? Magenta, what's going on?" Clive exclaimed furiously.

"I am no one. All you need to know is that I am on your side. Neither of you have anything to fear." The boy sounded very confident.

I backed away. "Clive, help me!" I cried.

I was terrified. It was dark, too dark. They were coming for me. I knew they were.

"Calm yourself, I'll help you." said the boy. He held my shoulders and led me along.

"Are-are you a wraith?" I asked again.

"No, of course not. I shook my head before. I guess I forgot you couldn't see me."

He stopped. "Why would you think that I was a wraith? Do I scare you?"

I blushed, and for once I was glad it was too dark to see. "Not exactly," I said.

"Hmm." He pushed me forward.

Just then I felt a cold breeze. Something icy brushed past me. "You'll never make it out alive," said a sinister, whispery voice.

The wraiths. I knew they would come for me!

I froze. The boy stopped behind me. "What was that?" he asked.

"Magenta," Clive called.

"She's coming," the boy called back.

I grabbed his arm. "Keep them away," I whispered.

"It's ok, we're almost there," he said.

I could hear more of them now. The voices surrounded me, laughing at me, threatening me, taunting me, harassing me. I couldn't escape. I couldn't get away.

"Are you sure you're alright? I don't want to let go if you think you're going to fall."

"Just go. I'll be ok."

"Alright," he said cautiously.

He let go. "I have to go now. Don't worry, I'll be back."

"Wait!" I called. "Where will you go?"

"Don't fret over me, Miss. I can take care of myself." Then he was gone.

As soon as he left, I was overcome by wraiths. They encircled me, their torments too much for me to bear. I collapsed.

Someone caught me. "Magenta?" Clive asked. "Is that you?"

"Clive!" I cried, hugging him.

"Uh, don't you think you're being a little forward? I don't mind, but it doesn't seem to be in your nature."

"It's not, but they're after me. I need your help. It's so dark. It's way, way too dark!"

"I didn't know you were scared of the dark."

"I'm not scared of the dark. I'm scared of what comes with it," I whispered.

"We're back," a wraith whispered. "We told you we'd be back for you. We told you we'd come."

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. "Leave me alone," I whispered.

The wraiths cackled, causing me to shudder in fear. "Leave you alone? Leave you alone! Don't make us laugh, you pathetic child." They cackled again, an atrocious melody of dry, cracked voices, all laughing at my expense. "We come and go as we please, girl. And right now, you're the lucky target; I only say lucky because it means that you get to become one of us."

I started crying now. "I don't care what you do to me. I will never give in to you. I don't want to become one of you."

I held Clive tighter, hoping he would take over. As if he had read my mind, he said, "Leave the poor girl alone. There is no point in torturing her like this. There is nothing to gain, no reward. What has she ever done to deserve this?"

"What has she done? She survived, that's what she's done! She should not have lived! She should have perished like the rest of us!"

The tears were streaming down my face now. I couldn't take it anymore. Why didn't they just kill me already?

Suddenly a figure appeared beside me. It was a wraith, no more than seven. I stared at him in surprise.

"Hello. I'm Seddah. What's your name?"

"I can see you," I said in amazement.

"Of course you can see me. I hate being invisible. I let everyone see me." He tilted his head. "What's your name?" he asked again.

"M-Magenta," I stammered.

"Hello, Magenta. Will you be my friend?"

The wraith was so small. He seemed so innocent. Too innocent. I decided to trust him.

"Uh, ok," I said.

He smiled a great, big grin. "Yay! Thank you so much! You're the first person who hasn't been afraid of me." His face suddenly fell. "You're not… afraid of me, are you?"

My heart melted. Little Seddah was just like me and Clive. All he ever wanted was a friend. "No, I'm not afraid of you, Seddah," I told him. "But I think I should warn you. The lockdown will probably end soon."

"So? What does that matter?" he asked.

"Listen to me, kid. You have to get out of here. Whoever sent you here sent you on a suicide mission. Soon enough, the lights will come back on, and then…"

His eyes widened. "Everybody, abandon mission! Abandon mission! We're all going to be destroyed!"

As soon as he said it, the lights came back on. Dim as they were, it was still enough. I heard a horrifying chorus of echoing screams as the entire group of wraiths transformed into a cloud of black smoke.

Clive's face was white with terror. "I never knew that this is what you had to go through. I never thought it would be this horrible. No wonder you were so scared."

I could see that he was trembling, but I knew that he was trying not to show it. I still clung to him, too afraid to let go. "Seddah," I whispered, but I knew it was too late. He was gone. Forever.


	2. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I could not erase that ghastly scene from my mind. The taunts, the screams, the eerie black smoke. It was all too much for me.

What upset me even more was that Seddah had been destroyed with the rest of them. He hadn't done anything wrong. He was only seven! Well, seven in human years, that is. I had no clue how long he'd been dead for. In wraith years, he could have been seven hundred for all I know. But anyway, I couldn't believe that he had been destroyed.

For those of you who don't already know, wraiths cannot die on account of their already being dead. They can, however, be destroyed, such as when they are struck with a bright light. These particular wraiths were used to complete and total darkness, which is why even the dim prison cell light was able to destroy them.

I was too shocked to speak, too shocked to move. It took a while to realize that Clive was speaking to me.

"Magenta, wake up already! You've been like this for six hours!"

"I-I have?"

"Finally! Were you possessed again or something?"

"N-no. I just can't stand the thought that all those wraiths were destroyed," I whispered.

He looked amazed. "But they were torturing you! They wanted you dead!"

"Not all of them," I said solemnly.

"But the torments! The death threats!"

"What about Seddah!" I screamed. "The poor little seven year old! All that kid wanted was a friend! That's all any of them ever wanted! They do this because it gives them power; it gives them respect! All little Seddah ever wanted was a friend. It was all he ever wanted and they destroyed him for it! They destroyed him, Clive!"

"I'm sure they didn't plan it that way, Magenta. I'm sure that—"

"They did plan it! This stupid leader of theirs has been sending them on suicide missions since forever ago! Seddah isn't the first wraith to ask me for friendship, ask me for forgiveness, ask me for help. There was even a little wraith girl who asked me to destroy her because she couldn't stand scaring people anymore! That's a lot to give up, Clive. Once a wraith has been destroyed, they don't exist anymore. Can you imagine asking not to exist?"

He said nothing. He just looked at me with that hurt look, the kind he always gives me when he thinks he's done something wrong.

"One day, I'm going to find that leader and destroy him. I'll destroy him and set all the other wraiths free. They're trained to think that what they're doing is right; they have no idea that they're hurting people. I need to save them, Clive. I need to."

He stared at me. "I didn't know this meant so much to you. I didn't realize that it was the wraiths' pain that made you suffer and not your own." His gaze locked on mine. "You are a very brave, compassionate person, Magenta. I admire your strength."

I turned red. "thanks, I guess. But this isn't about me. This is about them." I looked up and stared at the ceiling. "I know you can't hear me, Seddah, but I will avenge you."

_Wow. What had just happened? He could not believe that the girl was more worried about her tormentors' safety than she was of her own. He had never met someone so brave._

"_Magenta, if you don't mind me asking, what was the wraith girl's name?"_

"_Huh?" she said._

"_The one who asked you to destroy her. what was her name?"_

"_Lyah," she replied weakly. He knew just from her voice that she had been destroyed as well._

"_Then we will avenge her as well."_

_She looked up at him confusedly, but then her expression turned grateful. "Thank you, Clive. You've helped me more than you know."_

"_What do you mean by that?" he asked._

_She just smiled. "You'll see." Then she got up, walked back over to her little corner, and pulled the curtain closed._

_He gawked at the closed curtain in utter disbelief. How could she just leave him hanging like that? Especially when she herself was so impatient to get answers. "Hypocrite," he muttered, and then turned over so he could try to get some sleep. _

_But as he closed his eyes, he heard ever so faintly the sound of a pencil on paper, and he knew that behind her curtain Magenta was writing. _


	3. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I woke up to hear the door opening. I heard the voices of Fisheye and Lockjaw, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. Then I heard Clive.

"What happened last night? Did someone break out?"

"No," said Fisheye. "Someone broke in."

I froze. The boy! Had he broken into the prison?

I decided to come out from behind the curtain. "What's going on?" I asked.

"We came to make sure nobody got hurt last night," Lockjaw replied. "But seeing as everyone here is fine, we'd better get going."

"Wait!" I called out. I had some questions that needed answering.

They stopped and turned to face me.

"Don't you think it's a little strange that a twelve year old is in prison? I always thought you had to be much, much older to get arrested. And even more strange is that I'm in a cell with a guy. Shouldn't I be put with another girl? No offense, Clive."

Lockjaw shrugged. "Bill Hawks wanted it that way."

I was so angry that I thought I was going to explode. I hated Bill Hawks more than I had ever hated anyone in my life. I hated Bill Hawks more than I hated the leader of the wraiths. I hated Bill Hawks more than I hated myself for getting myself into this situation.

Fisheye laughed. "Ya don't wanna mess with Bill Hawks. Simple as that."

Even Clive was upset. "What are you trying to prove here? That Bill Hawks hates me? I think we all know that!"

"Um, Clive?" I whispered. "I-I think they were talking to me."

"Huh?" he stared down at me curiously.

"Anyway," Fisheye interrupted, "I was just sayin' that ya don't wanna mess with Bill Hawks." He winked at me.

"Tell Bill Hawks that I don't care what he does to me," I growled. "Tell him that I will never go back. Nothing he can do will make me regret my decision. I hate him, I hate him and I will not let him torture me anymore. I do not have to listen to him; I do not have to do what he says. I am through with all this. I am done. And he can throw me into as many corrupted prisons as he wants—anything is better than going back to the prison he thinks I call home."

For a while, everyone just stared at me, dumbstruck. Then, silently, I went back to my little corner, Fisheye and Lockjaw left, and Clive sat down in his usual spot in the middle of the cell.

"What was that all about?" Clive breathed.

"Well, I shouldn't be in prison on account of my age. And neither should you, considering that you're only sixteen."

He scratched his head nervously and smiled. "Well, they actually don't know that I'm sixteen. I had been posing as an older man, so they think I'm twenty something years old. I've tried telling them, but who'll believe me?" His smile faded. "But I meant the thing about Bill Hawks. What was that all about?"

I tensed. "N-nothing," I mumbled.

"Please tell me," he pleaded.

"No."

He looked disappointed. "Magenta, what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, ok? I'm innocent! I'm innocent but stupid Bill Hawks thinks he can do whatever he wants to me and finds my pain amusing, so I'm stuck in here until someone kills me!"

He stared at me, astonished. "I-I had no idea," he said quietly. He motioned for me to sit next to him, and I did. "You can tell me anything," he whispered. "If you tell me, I'll tell you."

I nodded. "Well, it all started ten years ago," I started.

He tensed. "But you were only two. How can you remember that?" he said, but I knew there was something else on his mind.

"I have an eidetic memory. I remember everything."

"That-that's amazing!"

"Yeah well, it's more like a curse then a blessing."

"Why is that?"

"If you'd just let me finish the story then you'd find out."

"Oh. Sorry."

I sighed. "Well, anyway, it all started ten years ago. My parents were scientists, and my older sister was one as well. Everything was fine, we were all happy, until my sister was killed in a lab explosion. My parents and I were outraged, and we decided to find out who was responsible. My parents did most of the research and found out about Bill Hawks and his grizzly plans.

"They found out a lot, too much apparently, because Bill Hawks decided that they were a threat and needed to be eliminated. Bill Hawks burned down my house, but not until after killing my parents with machine guns. I'm scarred with that memory, and I can never erase it.

"I ran from the flames, only two and not knowing what to do. I was scared, more scared then I had ever been in my entire life. I was also weak from running, and I fell. There was a boy, about six, and he helped me to my feet. To this very day, I have no idea who he is or why he helped me. He comforted me for a while, but soon enough he had his own problems after the huge explosion. I was on my own again, and soon enough, I was captured.

"I'm still not sure why Bill Hawks didn't just kill me. After all, I knew just as much as my parents did. But he decided instead to kidnap me, try to convince me that he was my father. I knew better than that. I hated him. I still hate him. And I vowed never to give in to him.

"After years of unbearable torture, I decided to run away. I was able to escape through an open window, and I had a pack with food, water, my notebook, a pencil, and my computer in it. I was about six at the time. Then the wraiths came after me, so when Bill Hawks started looking for me I went back without a fight. After a while, I got used to the wraiths. I was ready to try again.

"This time I was about nine. I escaped the same way, through an open window, with the same pack and the same supplies, except this time I doubled my amounts of food and water. While Bill Hawks was searching for me I stayed hidden. I was free for about a week. Then I got kidnaped, and sold back to Bill Hawks for a ransom. Little did he know that one of the men told me the whole story; Bill Hawks hired the men to kidnap me to scare me so I wouldn't run away again.

"For a while, it worked. I stayed. Then I realized: what could kidnappers do to me that he hadn't already? I had already been tortured, and I mean that literally. I realized I would rather be anywhere but with him. So I ran away again.

"This time I made my escape more secretively. I told Bill Hawks that I was going over my friend Mary's house for a sleepover, and that I'd be home the next night. I left at about three and promised to return by ten, so I figured that gave me around thirty one hours to get as far away as possible.

"I left all my supplies behind. I figured if he saw I had left all my prized possessions there, he'd think that surely I'd be coming back. He knew that I had used my 'running away pack' in the past, and probably thought me too ignorant to leave it behind. It was hard to survive without it, but soon enough I found a place to stay. I was on the street, of course, but now I was not alone. There were other runaways, so many of them that the street was called Runaway Road by many.

"The people who lived there were kind and considerate, and they always made sure to put out food and water for us. We were able to survive there, and no one scorned us, no one belittled us, everyone cared and sympathized for our misfortune.

"Then-then there was The Attack. The entire district was destroyed. Most of the others escaped without harm, but-but there was this one little boy, Almond, and he-he—"

I stopped, my face soaked with tears. I honestly didn't know what happened to Almond, but I was pretty sure he had not survived.

Clive held onto me. "It's ok, it's all over now. I won't make you say anymore. I'm sorry. I didn't know what you had been through. I never imagined it would be so bad." He looked at me curiously. "I do have one question for you, though."

I sniffled. "What is it?" I asked.

"Have you ever tried to get back at him for what he's done to you? You know, get revenge?"

"Ugh." I grimaced. "Revenge. I hate that word."

_He looked away. "Oh," he whispered. He shifted in discomfort._

"_What's wrong?" Magenta asked._

"_It's just—well, that's kind of why I'm here."_

_She stared at him, her head tilted in curiosity. He knew that he should confide in her, but he wasn't ready. He still couldn't handle it… could he? He'd never tried telling someone before. But Magenta seemed to be waiting for an explanation, so he decided to tell her._

"_Well, as your story did, my story began ten years ago. The explosion you spoke of earlier killed my parents. I was terrified, traumatized, and extremely distraught. I almost went back. _

"_Once the devastation wore off, I was enraged. I decided to find out who had wronged me. I decided to get revenge._

"_Soon enough, I was adopted by an elderly woman named Constance Dove. Her kind, compassionate nature made me hold back my plans, but I did not forget. Constance Dove and I became very close, and she convinced me to put my plans to the side and finish school. It didn't take very long as I skipped quite a few grades. I was always a little scared to be the youngest in the class; my height made up for it and most students never knew I was younger, which is also why the guards have no idea that I'm sixteen. _

"_Anyway, the friendship did not last very long. Miss Dove passed a few years later. Since I was already finished with school, I decided to get a job at the local newspaper. I found a lot of information about the explosion there, which I used to concoct my revenge scheme."_

_He stopped, and looked over at her. Magenta's face was full of concern, and he was relieved once again to know that she cared._

_But was that all about to change? How could he tell her that it was his fault? He couldn't tell her; he wouldn't tell her. But he couldn't bear to lie to her, not after she had been so trusting. He was conflicted. He was afraid. _

"_Should-should I go on?" he asked, hoping desperately that she would dismiss him. _

"_I don't care if you cry, Clive," she said, misinterpreting his discomfort. _

_He pursed his lips. He knew there was no way out._

"_I-I used m-my resources at the newspaper to find out that it had been Bill Hawks and his partner Dmitri Allen who caused the explosion. I needed revenge; it was what kept me going most of the time. But soon it started taking me over, and I slowly started to go mad, until the madness took hold of me and I could not get free."_

_He looked up at the girl. Her gaze locked on his. "Magenta, he whispered, "I was the mastermind behind The Attack."_

_She froze. "Wha-what?"_

_He gazed at her ruefully. "I'm sorry, Magenta, I lost control. I had no idea what I was doing."_

"_No," she whispered. "No, it can't be true. This can't be true!" she stared up at him distraughtly. _

"_Magenta—"_

"_No! Don't you get it, Clive! I almost died in that attack; you almost killed me! I can't believe this! I can't believe I ever trusted you!"_

"_Magenta, no! You don't understand!"_

"_Get away from me, you… you… ugh, I can't even find words to describe you!"_

"_Magenta, please!"_

"_Just leave me alone, ok? If you just stop now, then maybe I'll forgive you tomorrow."_

"_But Magenta—"_

"_No." She jumped behind her curtain and pulled it closed. Behind it he could hear her scribbling furiously._

_He felt humiliated. What had he done? He wished she would have let him finish the story; it had a much happier ending. If he stopped now, it would make him seem like a real criminal._

_He sat down in the opposite corner. He felt like crying. He could have lied. He could have told her that he hit his head; that he didn't remember anything else. But it was out of empathy for the girl that he told her the truth, and now she hated him for it. He should have known. He should have known._

I broke down behind my curtain, curling up into a ball in my little corner. How could this be? Clive really was a murderer. And I had almost been a victim.

And to think I had sympathized for him. I had been concerned for him. I'd had a soft spot for him. I thought he was my friend.

I wasn't really mad at him. I was more frightened than mad. It terrified me that he had been able to gain my trust so quickly. I had to stay away. I had to protect myself.


	4. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I woke up the next morning to find myself alone. Clive was missing. Again.

At first I was a little worried, but then I realized that if he was gone, he couldn't hurt me. I was relieved.

The relief was short lived as it was replaced with fear. What would I do when he came back! I grabbed my notebook. It was my notebook, my personal notebook, not the one that I shared with Clive. I flipped it open to page thirty-three and began writing.

_He glared at Fisheye and Lockjaw as they dragged him through the hallway. They had already gagged him so he couldn't speak, otherwise he would have demanded to be released. But he couldn't, so instead he stared at the floor in defeat. _

_They took him to a room with a table in the middle and four chairs. It was dimly lit and it was hard to see. He looked around but could see no one._

_They strapped him down in a metal chair, so tightly that it almost hurt to breath. He glared at them both. It was all he could do; he was restricted in every other way. _

_Suddenly, out of nowhere, he heard laughing. "Good work, men. You managed to catch the boy."_

_The mystery person stopped. "Why is he gagged? I thought I told you I needed him to answer questions for me."_

"_You did, sir!" Lockjaw piped up. _

"_And how is he supposed to answer questions if he's gagged?"_

"_Oh. Terribly sorry, sir!" Lockjaw untied the gag._

_He gasped for breath. "Dimitri Allen."_

_Dimitri laughed again. "I know who I am, boy. I always knew we would meet again." _

_He glared. "What do you want from me, Dimitri?"_

_Again he laughed. "I need you to answer some questions for me. Questions about your cellmate."_

"_Why do you want to know about her? She has nothing to do with our rivalry, Dimitri."_

_He chose his words carefully, pausing every once in a while. "Oh, I know. She will not be harmed. We simply need her participation in a certain… experiment, let's say. We need you to tell us some… information, so that we may… persuade her to participate." _

_He glared. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I already promised not to repeat anything she told me, especially to mad scientists."_

_Dimitri snickered. "Very funny. Now tell me, how did you manage to gain her trust? _

_He stared down. "I didn't. She hates me."_

"_Oh really?" Dimitri raised an eyebrow. "Our observations prove otherwise. She allowed you to read her notebook. She decided to stand up for you. She defended the perfect little image she had of you. She trusted you more than the prison guards!"_

"_Well it wasn't to last. That's all over now; that's all changed. She hates me now and there's nothing anyone can do about it."_

"_Hmm." Dimitri stared down at him disdainfully. "Well that's just too bad," he said sarcastically. "Now tell me what I want to know."_

"_Don't you understand? She's too fearful, timid, apprehensive. You can't gain her trust; she'll just accuse you of betrayal. If you act friendly, she gets scared. If you act antagonistic, she gets scared. The only way she doesn't fear you is if you fear her."_

"_Then how did you befriend her in the first place!"_

"_I-I didn't. She was more scared of other things than she was of me, and she decided to trust me because she needed someone to confide in. But once I decided to confide in her, my story scared her and now she hates me. She's impossible to befriend. My suggestion is to give up on her."_

_He laughed again. "Clive, when have you ever known me to give up on something?"_

"_You gave up on the time machine."_

_Dimitri slammed his fist against the table. "Enough of this! You will answer me now or face the consequences!" _

"_I don't have to tell you anything," he said defiantly._

_Dimitri was hopping mad. In a fit of rage, he flipped the table over and threw it across the room. Dimitri grabbed him. "Give me the information. Now," he growled through gritted teeth. _

"_Never." He gave Dimitri a defiant glare._

_For a minute he thought Dimitri would strangle him, but instead the scientist turned his back to the boy, took a few deep breaths, and unclenched his fists. "Fisheye, Lockjaw, take him back to his cell." He turned pointedly towards Fisheye. "Don't hold back."_

_Fisheye grinned maliciously. 'This oughta be fun." _

_The guards unstrapped him from the chair, grabbed him, and dragged him back through the hallway. _

_Then Fisheye threw him into a wall. He cried out in pain. "Oh, so that hurts ya, does it?" he laughed. _

_They continued dragging him, Fisheye twisting his arm, punching him, hitting him, and throwing him into walls every chance he got. _

_The walk back seemed to be twice as long as the walk there. After quite a few blows he was so weak that he could hardly stand. But every time he stumbled, Fisheye took it as an opportunity to hurt him again. _

"_Go ahead, kid. Cry. Cry all ya want. It don't matter to me what ya do. It ain't gonna make a difference."_

_Lockjaw seemed uncomfortable. "Take it easy on him, Fisheye. At least he cares. All he wants to do is protect the thing he cares about most."_

_Fisheye stopped. "Take it easy? Take it easy! Do you hear what you're saying?" The guard clenched his fist, crushing the boy's arm. _

_He cried out in pain. "Stop it! Stop it please! I can't take it!"_

_Fisheye laughed. "It's hilarious that ya think that I care."_

_He cried this time. The guard was holding his arm too tight. He was sure it was broken._

_They finally got to the cell. Lockjaw opened to door and Fisheye threw him in. He slammed head first into the back wall of the cell and collapsed. _

_The cell door slammed closed, but he couldn't hear it. He saw stars. _

"_Clive?" he heard Magenta whisper. "Are you ok?"_

_He barely had time to shake his head no before everything went black._

I knelt down beside him. "Clive?" I whispered. "Are you ok?"

He shook his head. He lost consciousness after that.

I could tell that he was weak. He needed medical help. I didn't know much about medicine, but I couldn't bear leaving him there, and there was nobody else to help him. I went over to my little corner and grabbed my pack.

I looked over him. It was mostly just cuts and bruises, but there was severe damage done to his arm, and I was pretty sure he had a concussion. I had no idea what to do for a concussion, but I knew how to fashion a makeshift cast for his arm.

I took a roll of bandage out of my pack and wrapped his arm in it. It wasn't exactly the most effective cast, but it would have to do.

I treated all of his other wounds; then I checked his head. I was almost positive now that he had a concussion. But what could I do about that?

I decided to ask about that later. Concussions are usually temporary, so it would most likely wear off. But when? Was there any way to help? What could I do?

I looked up at him. Clive looked weak, too weak. He was completely defenseless. I needed to help him. I needed to do something.

I hated feeling so powerless, so unable to help. I wished more than anything that I knew what to do.

Then I remembered—I was supposed to be scared of him. I almost slapped myself. Why had I ever been afraid? Clive needed me. I couldn't abandon him just because of my stupid, irrational fears.

Just then, the lights went out. I heard a sinister, whispery voice. "So we meet again."

"What do you want?" I muttered, annoyed.

"We came back. We came to make sure you take our offer. You will become one of us."

"I have more important things to do right now. Try coming back tomorrow."

"It's the boy, is it not?" a deep voice said. "Shall we take him as well?"

I grabbed Clive's arm. "Leave him alone," I said angrily.

They cackled. "We do not take orders from you. We only take orders from Master Vadoh."

"Master Vadoh?" I asked. "So that's your leader's name."

"Yes," they hissed. "He is our Master."

"Interesting," I said. "But right now I need to help my friend. I don't have time for you."

They laughed. "Friend? You consider this boy your friend? If we remember correctly, you were terrified of him just a few hours ago."

"I was. But I'm over that now. And you know what else? I'm not afraid of you anymore, either. As a matter of fact, I pity you more than I fear you."

"What!" they screeched. "You dare claim not to fear us!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can you please go now? I told you, I don't have time for this."

They shrieked in outrage. "This is not possible! We own you! You belong to us!"

"Not anymore. I'm done with you. But if Seddah survived somehow, tell him I said hi."

They disappeared, cursing at me. The lights came on mere moments later.

I felt more confident than I ever had before. I told off the wraiths! I would never let them bother me again. Finally, finally I was free!

But now I had other things to worry about. It had been five hours already, and Clive was still out cold. I realized that I would have to make sure he was taken care of. I would have to feed him and give him water until he came to.

I smiled. I could do that. I had done it before, when some of the other runaways were sick and needed the help. I wasn't powerless after all; I did know how to help!

I stayed up all night to make sure that Clive was alright. Much to my concern, he did not wake up.


	5. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The next few days were uneventful. I fed Clive and gave him water three or four times a day. I used the Venom Tester from my pack to check for poison. And lucky I did—a few of the meals actually were poisoned.

He had been unconscious for three days already. It worried me that he had not stirred even once yet. I checked his pulse about once every hour, so I knew that he was alive. Why wouldn't he wake up?

The concussion should have worn off by now, shouldn't it? I truthfully didn't know much about concussions, except that they were usually temporary. But did they really last that long?

I was sitting by Clive, writing in my personal notebook, when a man walked in. He was tall, with grey hair that covered one of his eyes, which were black. He wore a lab coat, which led me to believe he was a scientist, with a rose on one side. He also wore a grey scarf and a white hat with a grey brim. He looked tired.

"So, he's sleeping, is he? Miss, would you mind waking him up for me? And please do tell me your name; I wish to address you correctly."

I looked up at him suspiciously. "First of all, he's not sleeping, he's out cold. I would wake him if I could, but he's been out for three days and there's no sign of him awakening. Second of all, I can't tell you my name until you do." I stood up. "Who are you?"

"Very cautious, I see. A good trait. I am Dimitri Allen, and your friend here is considered to be my… rival, for lack of a better word."

I stepped defensively in front of Clive. "I won't let you hurt him. I will fight you if I have to. I'd rather die than let you take him."

"Calm yourself, girl. I do not wish to hurt your little friend. I simply wanted to have a word with him."

I watched him distrustfully. "I don't think I believe you," I said.

He took a step forward. I instantly took a fighting stance.

Dimitri laughed. "Did I not tell you to calm yourself? I do not tolerate violence. As a matter of fact, I loathe it. I only allow violence when it is completely necessary."

I was not convinced. I held my stance, glaring at him. I didn't trust him. I didn't trust him at all.

"Hmm." He glanced down at me. "What if I told you I knew your father? Would that make you more comfortable?"

"That would make me hate you more. Actually, that would probably make me sick."

He laughed. "I agree. I hate the man, but I never thought you would, considering you are his daughter."

I was outraged. "Bill Hawks is not my father and I am not his daughter. He killed my parents and my sister and kidnapped me! And if my information is correct, you assisted him in killing my sister!"

He looked surprised. "What? I've never killed anyone! If your relatives were killed in the explosion, then you should know that I was not involved in that. That was all Bill's fault. I wasn't even there!"

"Only my sister was killed in the explosion, but I'm sure you remember her loss. She knew you."

He laughed. "And who was your sister?"

"My sister was Claire. She was your lab assistant."

He froze. "C-Claire? Your sister was C-Claire!"

I nodded. "You killed her," I whispered.

He fell to his knees. "No. I didn't kill her. I didn't. You see, I-I loved her. She was already with someone else, but… I loved her."

I glared at him, but suddenly I didn't feel so cross. I wasn't sure if he was the bad guy or not. "Dimitri, who's side are you on? Ours or Fisheye's?"

"Well, I did ask for some assistance from Fisheye and Lockjaw, but… I'm not sure anymore. I can't turn against the little sister of the love of my life. It just wouldn't be right. But Clive had pretended to help me with my research, and meanwhile planned The Attack behind my back. I don't know what to

"I can't trust you with any information until you decide," I told him.

He slowly stood. "I don't know right now. When Clive wakes up, tell him I'd like a word with him." He looked at me. "I believe I've made a decision. I'll join your side if Clive approves of it."

"Good. I'll be sure to ask when he comes to." I glanced at Clive nervously. "If he comes to."

"What do you mean?" Dimitri asked.

"Well he's been out for— wait, I probably shouldn't say this."

"I'm on your side, Miss."

"Ok," I said cautiously. "Well, he's been out for three days, and I'm starting to get really worried."

"Three days? That's not possible! I last spoke to him three days ago."

"You had Fisheye and Lockjaw bring him back?"

He nodded.

"They did this to him."

He gasped. "When I told Fisheye not to hold back, I thought he would just annoy him! I never thought he would do this!"

"And why exactly did you tell Fisheye not to hold back?" I asked coldly.

"Well, I-I was annoyed." he said embarrassedly. "I was fed up with his defiance and I… I lost control."

"You people have a habit of doing that, don't you?"

"I suppose you could say that." He reached up and scratched his head nervously.

"Hmm." I looked over towards Clive. "Come on, Clive, wake up. Wake up already."

He didn't move.

I sighed. "I wish you didn't have a concussion. It would make helping you so much easier."

"A concussion, you say? As a scientist, I doubt that this is a concussion."

"How? I thought you studied time travel."

"I did, but I also did some studies on the human brain. If he's been out for three days, that means he's in a coma. The coma may have been caused by a concussion, though."

I grabbed Clive's arm. "A coma! Isn't that really serious? He's not going to die, is he?" I said, panicked.

"I don't think so," he said calmly. "He'll wake up as soon as the swelling goes down."

"He better! And if he doesn't, I'm going to kill Fisheye, Lockjaw, Bill Hawks and you!" I screamed.

"Me? But I'm on your side, remember?"

"Not if Clive dies."

Dimitri sighed. "I told you, he's going to wake up."

I let go of Clive's arm. "Fine. I'll believe you." I paused. "For now."

Dimitri looked down at his wrist. "Hmm. I'm afraid I must go now. I've been here longer that I thought." Then he walked out and closed the door.

I had to admit, I was interested. I wanted to know more. I had a suspicion that there was more to this story than I knew. I had to find out what happened.

I turned back to Clive. "You better wake up," I told him. "I'm not done with you yet. You're gonna tell me this whole story. I need to catch up on what I missed."

He did not stir.

I sighed. "This is going to be a long day."

I curled up in my little corner, my curtain closed, but I could not sleep. Instead I grabbed my notebook and recorded the day's progress; there wasn't much. When I was done, I opened up my other notebook to page thirty three and continued writing. This time, I finished my work.

A song. I had written a song.

At first I had no idea what to call it, but slowly an idea came to me. On the top of the page, in capital letters, I wrote: REVENGE.

I smiled, holding the book close to me. It had always been a comfort to me. I fell asleep, notebook in hand, open to page thirty three.

**(A/N)**

for those who are curious, "Revenge" is an actual song that i wrote. Review and i will post the lyrics on my profile!


	6. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Again, the next few days were uneventful. I spent most of my time working on my song and researching ways to wake up Clive on my computer, but the internet is stupid and I found nothing. After three more days passed, I got really scared. What if it took months for him to wake up? What if… what if he didn't wake up at all?

I couldn't stand the thought of it. I walked over to him. Still unconscious, of course. Not even a twitch. No movement at all.

…_He woke up to see Magenta__'__s curtain fly closed. Wait. Magenta__'__s curtain? He was in his cell? _

_Never mind. There was no time to think about that now. _

"_Magenta? He whispered. "Please come out."_

_Slowly she emerged from behind the curtain._

_He looked down and realized that his arm was in bandages. "Was this you?" he asked._

_She nodded, shifting nervously._

"_Don__'__t be afraid," he whispered. "You didn't allow me to finish. If you__'__d just let me tell you__…__" _

_She just backed away, eyes shining with fear. _

"_Wait!" he cried. "Don__'__t go!"_

_Then everything started fading. All he could see was a blinding flash of bright white light__…_

"_Huh?" He looked around frantically._

"_Clive!" he heard Magenta scream. She hugged him._

"_Huh?" he said again. "What's this?"_

"_Thank goodness you're okay. You scared me so much!"_

"_I-I don't understand," he said confusedly. He looked down at his arm. As he had dreamed, it was bandaged. "You did this?" _

_She nodded._

"_But why?" he asked. "I thought you hated me."_

"_What?" She pulled away. "Who told you that? I never said that!" _

"_Well I just—you were so upset, and I was sure that you'd never talk to me again."_

"_I admit I was a little scared of you, but after you hit your head I was really, really scared. Not of you, but for you."_

"_What?" he said, extremely confused._

"_Let me reword that," she said quickly. "After you passed out, I decided I wasn't scared of you anymore. But then you wouldn't wake up, and I was so worried, and—"_

"_Magenta, how long have I been unconscious?"_

"_Six days."_

"_What!" he sat up, suddenly alert._

"_That's why I was so scared. According to Dimitri Allen, you—"_

"_Dimitri Allen! What was he doing here?"_

"_Will you let me finish?" she said in an annoyed tone. _

"_Sorry," he said sheepishly._

"_Anyway, you got a concussion when you hit your head and slipped into a coma. I tried to wake you up, but nothing worked."_

"_I-I was in a-a coma?" he whispered._

_She nodded. "Yes, but I'm so glad you're okay." She blushed. "I guess I have to apologize to Dimitri now. I kind of told him that if you didn't wake up, I would kill him for lying to me."_

"_But why was he here in the first place? What did he want?"_

"Well, he wanted to talk to you, but since you were out cold, I had a talk with him instead. Turns out he was in love with my sister. He says he feels bad about what happened and wants to join our side."

"Did you say he could?" Clive gasped.

I nodded. "I said he could, but only if you approved."

He looked relieved. "In that case, tell him I'll never approve."

"Why not?" I asked.

His eyes widened. "Why not? Why not! Magenta, the man killed my parents and tried to kill me as well!"

"Actually, he didn't kill your parents," I said aloud.

"Wha-what?" he whispered.

"He didn't kill your parents," I said softly. "In fact, he wasn't even there when the explosion happened."

"How do you know that?" he asked incredulously.

"He told me. Bill Hawks was the one who caused the explosion."

Clive sat there, speechless. "Are you saying… that Dimitri Allen is… innocent?"

I nodded. "And he wants to help us. Clive, listen to me. We don't belong here. We need to get out. We need to escape."

He shook his head. "You need to escape, Magenta, not me. You have done nothing and do not deserve to be imprisoned here. I deserve it. I've done things, horrible things, things I need to make up for. I lost my mind, and now that I have it back… I'm appalled at what I did without it"

"_Clive, I don't mean to change the subject, but will you tell me the end of your story?" Magenta asked, staring hopefully up at him. _

"_What?" he asked, momentarily confused. _

"_Your story. You said I didn't let you finish. I want to know the rest of it."_

_He nodded. "Okay. Well, the plan was completely flawless, until Dimitri decided he needed the assistance of a man named Professor Layton. Layton and his apprentice Luke figured out my plot. I was so close to success when they stopped me. My fortress started destroying itself, and I got hit in the head with a pipe that fell from the ceiling. I collapsed. _

"_When I gained consciousness, I was too weak to get up. I thought it was all over. I thought it was the end. Then, a woman stepped out of the shadows. I recognized her easily, as she had been helping the Professor. She helped me to stand and supported me when I tried to walk. At first I didn't understand. After all, why would someone like her be helping someone like me? I pulled away, unsure and afraid. _

"_I expected her to grab me, to scold me for what I'd done, to punish me. But she surprised me by comforting me, telling me it wasn't too late, I could still change, I could still make amends for what I'd done. I still didn't completely understand why she had come back for me. I would have fought more if I hadn't been so weak, but I ended up losing consciousness again. _

"_When I awoke, I was on the ground. I don't know what happened to my fortress. That was when I started to realize what I had done. I was arrested, but was generously allowed one last conversation with the Professor, in which I thanked him for saving my life again. I have no doubt that if he hadn't stopped me, my own madness would have killed me. _

"_After that, Barton took me back to headquarters. He gave the hat back to me, saying nothing but "You forgot this." He was very kind to me, even though I knew he hated me just like everyone else. Even I hated myself. _

"_Soon enough, I was in here. And shortly after that, you came."_

He turned away, to ashamed to look my way.

"Clive? May I ask a few questions?"

"By all means," he said.

"First of all, what did you mean when you said again? Did the Professor save your life before?"

"Oh yes, that," he said, scratching his head nervously. "Well, you remember I told you when my parents were killed, I almost went back? He was the one who stopped me."

I nodded. "Makes sense." Then I turned to him. "Listen, this next one is really, really important. If the answer is what I think it is, then there's a chance that Hawks didn't completely ruin my life. So tell me, the woman who saved you. What was her name?"

"Why? What's so important about her?"

"Clive, just tell me! I need to know."

"Alright, calm yourself. I believe her name was Claire."

Claire. So I was right! It was her! My sister had survived! "She made it!" I whispered excitedly.

"If only." He gazed at me apologetically.

I stopped. "What?"

He held my gaze. "I'm sorry, Magenta. She saved my life, but she lost her own."

"No," I whispered. "No!" I crumbled. Suddenly I felt dizzy. Then everything went black.

"Magenta! Magenta, wake up!"

"Huh?" I sat up, suddenly alert. "Where is she," I asked. "What happened to her? Where is my sister?" Then the memory came flooding back.

Clive watched me worriedly. "Are you alright?"

"I guess so," I mumbled. "Not really, though."

"What were you saying before? Something about your sister?"

I nodded. "Claire was my older sister. When she died, I went into complete shock. I always had a hunch that she had somehow survived the blast. I had always considered her the smartest person in the world." I smiled. "She was my role model. And she still is."

"That's impossible," he whispered. "You're her sister?"

I nodded.

He shook his head. "You have to be messing with me. Are you serious?"

"I'm proud to say so."

He stared at me for a while. Then he grinned. "Honestly, I can't believe I didn't see it earlier. You have the same caring nature as her. I can see why you've idolized her."

I blushed. "I just wish I could talk to her somehow. But wishing has caused me enough trouble already." I looked away solemnly. "Wishing is dangerous. If you're not careful, you just might get what you wanted."

"But… how is that dangerous?" Clive asked.

"When I was six years old, I wished on a shooting star that I could see Claire again. That's when the wraiths started coming after me. They said that I could talk to her again and escape Hawks if I did what they said. I couldn't believe it. I was willing to do anything.

"Then I found out what I had to do. If I wanted to get my wish, I had to kill myself."

Clive gasped.

"I refused, of course. I knew that it was the last thing my sister would want me to do. But they kept coming back, every night, until I got here. For six years they've been following me, trying to persuade me to join them. I've been terrified of them ever since." I looked up. "But not anymore."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Because I know now that they can't hurt me. I know now that I'm the one in control." I turned to Clive. "I'm sick and tired of always being afraid of everything. I'm fed up with my shyness. I think it's about time I pushed my fears aside and confronted them, face-to-face."

"I never noticed this before, but you are just as brave as Claire was as well."

"Um, thanks. But… why are you being so nice to me?"

He looked confused. "Why do you ask?"

"Well… nobody's really ever been nice to me before. I'm used to being teased and tormented. I've been kidnapped, attacked, chased, hunted down. I've experienced things you can't even begin to imagine. That's why I've always been afraid."

"That must have been horrible," he said. "But as long as I'm around, I won't let that happen anymore."

"Thanks, but I think it's about time I learned to fend for myself. And learned how to use this." I pulled out my sword.

"Where on earth did you get that?" Clive gasped.

"My father gave it to me on my second birthday. He told me to take good care of it. He said that normally he would wait until I was thirteen, old enough to handle a weapon, but that it was important that I had it while he was still around. I didn't know what he meant until half a year later, when Hawks broke in and killed him right in front of me."

"So… you remember the exact words that he said?"

I nodded. "I told you. I have an eidetic memory."

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

"That must be Dimitri," I said. "Come in," I called.

The door opened and a man stepped in. It was not Dimitri.

**(A/N)**

**Sorry it took so long to write this chapter. I probably have no fans left :'( **

**Please, please, please review! I know it's been a while since I updated my story, but those reviews are what inspires me to continue! **

**And feel free to submit any ideas you have to the story. I'm open to all suggestions! **


	7. Chapter 13

**(A/N)**

**Hello! Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I had a major case of writers block. But now I'm back! I'm sure that cliffhanger was probably bugging you. Well, wait no longer! Skip this Authors Note and read!**

* * *

_"Oh, no! Not you too!" he said exasperatedly._

_"You know him, too? Who's he?" Magenta stared up at him._

_"He used to work for me. He's the strongest of them all."_

_"Yes, but who is he?" she asked._

_"The name's Bostro," the huge man interrupted._ _"I'm the warden's assistant. And I've brought the warden."_

_A smaller man stepped out from behind him. _

_Magenta gasped. "Bill Hawks."_

_Bill laughed. "I see you've made it so far with prison life. Are you ready to go home?"_

I glared at him. "Never."

He was taken aback. "What?"

"The 'home' you describe is more of a prison than actual prison. In other words, I'd much rather stay here than go back with you."

He took a step back, astonished. "How could you say that?" he gasped. Then his eyes widened. He turned to Clive. "What have you done to her? My daughter would never defy me like this!"

I stood up in anger. "I am not your daughter. You kidnapped me! You kidnapped me and killed my family and mistreated me and so much more! I can't stand you!"

Hawks was appalled. "Clive Dove, I know you're behind this! You've turned my daughter against me. When I'm done with the both of you, you'll wish you never existed!"

Clive went pale. I stepped in front of him. "I already do."

He gasped. "You-you are going to pay for saying that!"

"Haven't I paid enough already?"

He backed away, flabbergasted. "How dare you!" he screamed in outrage. He stormed out of the cell and slammed the door.

Clive stared at me. Then he grinned. "Looks like someone learned how to be defiant."

I grinned back. "I guess so." Immediately my smile faded. "Now if only I knew exactly what I just got myself into." I sighed.

"I'm sure it can't be much worse than what you've already been through. Besides, I'll be there for you."

I smiled at him. "Thanks, Clive. You're a good friend."

He shrugged. "I try." He grinned.

I stared up at the ceiling. "I wonder what happened to Seddah. I hope he made it. The poor thing. All he ever wanted was a friend."

Clive tilted his head curiously. "I thought you said he was gone."

"Yeah, I did. But I can never know for sure. I mean, unless he shows up again. But if not, I'll never know for sure."

"Hmm." Clive nodded solemnly.

Then I yawned. "I'm exhausted. I haven't slept for six days. I barely even closed my eyes I was so worried."

"You should get some rest, then. It's not healthy to go so long without resting."

I yawned again. "You're right." I got up and walked to my little corner, pulling my curtain closed. I closed my eyes and immediately fell asleep.

…I was walking down the street, head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone else. I hoped desperately that I wouldn't be noticed as I kept going. But, being me, I was careless. I crashed into somebody.

Looking up, I saw a young boy, about ten. He wore a light blue cap and had light brown hair. He also wore a light blue sweater and olive green shorts. He carried a brown satchel.

The boy peered down at me curiously. "I'm sorry, Miss, are you alright?"

"Uh, yes, I'm fine," I stood up and turned to walk away.

"Hey, wait!" the boy called. "Where are you going?"

I sped up, trying to put as much distance between me and the boy as possible.

The boy ran after me. "Hey! Miss! Slow down, please!"

Then I turned my head. There was a man chasing after the boy. He was wearing a black top hat with an orange stripe. He also wore a dark orange shirt and a black overcoat, with black pants and olive green shoes. "Luke, slow down!" the man called.

The boy did not reply. He just kept chasing me, eventually driving me into a dead end. Terrified, I gasped and turned around to face him.

"Who are you?" the boy asked curiously.

"Uh," I said, having no idea how to answer.

"Come on, we're not going to hurt you."

The man slowed down as he reached the entrance. "Luke, stop. It's obvious that the poor young lady is scared."

The boy turned around. "But Professor," he protested. "This girl may be the key to solving our mystery!"

"Maybe so," the man replied, "But that's no reason to make her feel uncomfortable."

"I'm not trying to make her uncomfortable, Professor."

"I know that, Luke."

I stared at them as they stared at me. "What do you want from me?" I eventually asked.

They did not reply. They just began to fade as the world turned white and their voices echoed incomprehensible words…


	8. Chapter 14

**(A/N) **

**Sorry, guys! It's a really short chapter, but I needed to end it where I did for suspense reasons. Anyway, please enjoy the story! And if you don't... Well, that's your problem.**

* * *

I sat up with a start, hitting my head against the wall as I did. "Ow," I said to myself, standing up. My dream had been surprisingly vivid, and I knew why. three days before I was arrested, I met the same boy and the same man. And I knew something else; that was why I had recognized Clive.

I pulled my curtain open and walked out. "Clive? How long was I asleep?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "About ten minutes, I'd say. Is something wrong?"

"I know where I remember you from. Three days before I got captured and sent here, I ran into a little boy on the street. He looked exactly like you, except younger."

_He froze, hoping desperately that his suspicions were incorrect. "Really? And… you just thought of this now?"_

_She nodded. "Yeah. I had a dream about it." _

_"Hmm. And… would you happen to know the name of this boy?"_

_"Actually, yes. I believe his name was Luke._

_He went pale, knowing that there was no other explanation. "Luke," he whispered. Instantly, the memory flashed across his mind. He remembered pretending to be Future Luke, or Big Luke, as they had later called him. He remembered how the boy had been so confident, always trying to impress his future self with his wits. He remembered the betrayed look on the boy's face when it had been revealed that he was a fraud. He also remembered the Professor, Professor Layton to be specific. The man who had saved his life not once, but twice. There had also been a girl, Flora. He winced, remembering how hurt she had looked when he had kidnapped her. He wished more than anything that he could take it back. But… it was far too late for that._

_"Clive?" Magenta said anxiously. "Are you alright?"_

_"Huh?" he said, snapping out of his trance. "Oh. I-I'm fine. Just… old memories. Coming back to haunt me."_

_"Oh," she said compassionately, staring down at him with empathy filled eyes. "I understand." She sighed. "I'm guessing you'd rather not tell?"_

_He nodded. "I would prefer to keep my more personal memories to myself."_

_"That's fine," she said. There was a long period of silence._

_Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Clive?" Lockjaw's voice called. "You've got a visitor."_

_The door opened and a man walked in. Clive gasped._

_"Hello, Clive," the man said. "I'm pleased to see you again."_

_Instantly, Clive stood, not knowing what else to do. He had been indebted to the man since he was a child. In complete and total shock, he could only manage to utter two words:_

_"Professor Layton!"_


	9. Chapter 15

**(A/N) Hey guys! Sorry it took me so long to upload this chapter. I had the whole thing written, but I couldn't think of a good way to end it. Eventually, I just settled** **for what I had.**

* * *

I gaped as a saw the man from my dream, right there in front of me. My mind started spinning. What was going on? And did he just say… Professor… _Layton_?

"Luke, come on in, my boy. It's only Clive."

The boy Luke walked in nervously. Then he noticed me. "No, it's not!" he gasped, gaping at me. "Professor, look!"

The Professor turned to look at me. "Oh my," he said to himself.

I cowered away, suddenly self-conscious.

"Magenta, don't be afraid," Clive said. "I know them already; they aren't going to try to kill you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Really? Because everyone else that you knew from your past has threatened me in some way. Well, except for Lockjaw, but he seems kind of slow."

I turned to the man. "You… you're Professor Layton?" I asked timidly, hating myself for acting so shy.

The Professor nodded. "Yes, that would be me."

"And I'm Luke, the Professors assistant!" the boy Luke chirped.

"Oh. Well, hi, Professor. Hi, Luke. I-I'm Magenta."

"Magenta?" Luke said, amused. "Isn't that a color?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I-I actually don't have a name, and since my hair is magenta, people call me Magenta."

The Professor nodded. "Fitting, isn't it?" he said, equally amused.

I blushed. "Yeah, that's what I said." I turned to Clive. "Is this the Professor Layton you told me about?" I asked. "You know, the one in your story?"

He nodded. Then he turned back to the Professor. "Professor, I… I don't know what to say," he admitted, but I wasn't really paying attention.

Layton. Layton Layton Layton. Where had I heard that name before?

Suddenly, something clicked inside my brain. I stood up. "Um, excuse me, Professor? I have a serious question for you."

He turned to me. "But of course," he said.

I cleared my throat. "You wouldn't happen to work at Gressenheller University, would you?" I asked.

The Professor nodded. "As a matter of fact, I would," he replied.

"And… did you by any chance happen to know someone named Claire?"

He froze. "How on earth do you know about Claire?" he asked.

I pushed the hair out of my eyes. "I-I was her sister," I told him.

Layton shook his head. "That-that's not possible," he stuttered. "Inspector Chelmey told me that—"

"Before you say anything, there's no record of me ever being born." I stared directly at him.

The Professor stared at me, dumbstruck, as did Luke and Clive. "Impossible," all three said at once.

I averted my eyes. "I know it seems bizarre, but it's true. I wasn't born in a hospital, and I was never legally registered with the government as a citizen."

Clive crossed his arms, pretending to be offended. "You never told me that," he said indignantly. He turned his back to me. "I thought we were friends, Magenta."

I shook my head. "Clive, this isn't a time for jokes," I told him, but I was smiling anyway.

Professor Layton shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said. "How come Claire never mentioned you?"

I shifted in discomfort. "My parents wanted to keep me a secret," I told him. "I'm supposed to have some kind of… 'special gift.' I still don't know exactly what this gift is yet, but I was told as a child that it would be revealed to me in a time of great need."

Clive uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips. "What else have you been hiding from me, Magenta?" he asked, slightly annoyed.

I rolled my eyes. "You say that like you've told me everything," I told him.

_He shrunk back, suddenly insecure. "I haven't hidden much from you," he insisted, but he felt guilty saying it. He knew he was lying._

_He decided to change the subject. "So, Professor," he said, standing up straight. "Why have you come for a visit? I'm sure you must be extremely busy. So what makes this visit important enough to be worthwhile?"_

_The Professor reached up and touched the brim of his hat. "Oh. Yes. Luke and I are in the middle of an important investigation including Prime Minister Bill Hawks. It seems he's been causing quite the amount of trouble for some citizens."_

_Clive's face turned bright red with anger. "You're just noticing this now!" he exclaimed._

_The Professor shifted in discomfort. "Well, that's why we're here, Clive. You've been wronged by the Prime Minister before. Luke and I thought that you might have some outside information."_

_He turned to Magenta. "Yes, I definitely have some information. But Magenta here would have to approve of me telling you first._

_Magenta nodded. "You can tell them, Clive," she said quietly. "I'd rather let you tell than tell myself. You know I'm a little sensitive about it."_

_He shifted in discomfort. "You're sure?" he asked, his expression one of concern._

_She nodded again. "Anything to stop Bill Hawks," he said, grinning._

_Clive smiled. Then he turned back to Professor Layton. "Professor, this girl claims that Bill Hawks killed her sister, who was a scientist. Her parents, also scientists, found out that he had killed her. Hawks did not want the public to hear of his crime, so he had them murdered, then set her house afire. She has told me that she was kidnapped by him and had lived in his custody for most of her life."_

Layton's face grew grim. "Hmm," he said, closing his eyes.

"That's awful," Luke whispered. He walked over to me. "How could you ever put up with that for so long?" he asked amazedly.

I shrugged. "I was too little to do anything," I said simply. "I tried running away a few times, but that never worked."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Bostro thrust the door open. "I heard you had visitors," he stated. Then his eyes widened as he saw The Professor and Luke. "Layton!" he cried.

Luke gasped. "I remember you!" he cried. "You shot guns at us!"

Layton nodded, crossing his arms. "Yes, I know you. I believe your name is Bostro, isn't it?"

Bostro let out a low growl, clenching his fists. Then he grinned. "The Prime Minister will be happy to know you've been eliminated," he smirked. He slammed the door, and I froze as I heard the awful click of the lock.


	10. Chapter 16

**(A/N) Hey everyone! This chapter is really overdue, but I worked really hard on it and tried to add in some comic relief for the last chapter. Hope you like it!**

* * *

Luke gasped, and The Professor tried desperately to open the door. Clive stared, eyes wide and mouth hanging open in astonishment. I just watched The Professor's vain efforts, disheartened.

"Professor, please stop," I said softly. "It's no use."

The Professor froze for a moment. Then his hands fell to his sides and he turned away from the door, head down in embarrassment. "You must excuse me," he said quietly. "I'm afraid I… lost myself, I suppose."

"I've done the same exact thing, when I was first locked in here," I told him.

Clive nodded. "Exactly my reaction. Though… I was a little more accepting, because I had actually committed a crime." He scratched his head nervously.

"Professor, what are we going to do!" Luke cried. "I can't survive in prison!"

"Calm down, my boy," Layton instructed. "We mustn't lose our heads right now."

I nodded in agreement, quickly opening up my computer. "Hawks might be smart, but he was just dumb enough to give me internet access. Let's see how the public reacts when they learn that the famous Professor Hershel Layton, along with his charming young assistant Luke have been innocently locked away at the hands of the Prime Minister."

Luke reddened. "Charming?" he mumbled embarrassedly.

I looked up at him. "People love that kind of stuff," I explained. "You can put the word charming in front of anything and make it sound interesting. Think about it. Rock, or charming rock? Shoe, or charming shoe? Which one would you rather choose?"

He looked away. "I guess you're right," he mumbled, but I noticed the look of disappointment in his eyes.

Right away, I could tell that Luke was the kind of person who lived on compliments. So, I decided to give him one, without overdoing it, of course. Otherwise… well, you get the picture. I don't need a stalker. And I don't want to be one, either.

"I should also say that you're really nice," I said aloud. "I can tell that you are. Plus, girls love that. You two should have an online fan base in no time."

"Online fan base?" Clive said confusedly.

I nodded. "It's when a bunch of people make an online protest against something they think is unfair." I tilted my head at him. "I'm surprised you didn't know that," I told him. "You've got one, you know."

He blinked. "I do?"

"Yup," I told him. "Tons of people think you should be let out of prison. They all believe that your actions were justified based on your background history. Of course, some of them just find you attractive, and don't care about anything else, but most of them really do like you and want to set you free."

He stared at me, dumbfounded. "So… I-I'm not completely alone?" he whispered.

I shook my head. "Nope. Here's an online petition for your release with over ten thousand signatures." I looked up at them. "Some of these names sound oddly familiar," I said. "Shall I read them aloud?"

The Professor nodded. "But of course," he said. "Trying to uncover a memory is sometimes just as beneficial to the mind as solving a puzzle."

I smiled. "Alright then," I said. I read out the first name on the list. "Becky," I said.

"Becky?" Luke exclaimed. "Wasn't she the girl from the hotel in Future London?"

Clive nodded. "Yes, I remember Becky. A very nice girl. I remember a boy named Hazel, had a slight crush on her. Always afraid of everything, the poor boy."

I grinned at him. "That's funny. That's the next name on the list."

The Professor let out a slight chuckle. "How interesting," he mused.

"Next is Natalia," I told them.

The Professor thought for a moment. "Hmm. She was also from Future London, was she not? I distinctly remember her as a sickly nurse."

Luke nodded. "Yes, I remember her!" he exclaimed.

Clive crossed his arms. "Magenta, don't read all the names in order," he suggested. "Otherwise it'll be too easy to guess."

I shrugged. "Alright." I skipped down to number 115. "Marilyn."

"Marilyn's one of the Black Ravens!" Luke cried. "She sold fruits and vegetables at her parents' stand right by Louis."

The Professor nodded. "Amazing. This petition even made it all the way to Misthallery."

"The petition is online," I reminded them. "People everywhere have signed it."

Clive nodded. "Please continue, Magenta," he said quietly. "I want to see who else has been supporting me."

I nodded. "Alright then," I said. "Next is—"

"If I may interrupt," Layton interjected.

"Of course," I replied, not finding the disruption the slightest bit rude.

"Magenta, Luke and I have met all of these people on our adventures. How exactly do you know any of them?"

I stopped. "Well, I've been to Misthallery before," I told them.

Luke's eyes widened. "You have!" he exclaimed. "That's my hometown!"

I nodded. "The first time I ran away, I took a bus as far away from town as I could get. Then I wandered around for a few days. I found myself in an alleyway, where I realized that I didn't know how to take care of myself. I sat down and started to cry.

"Then I met someone. A boy, around my age. He took me in and cared for me until…" my voice trailed off.

Clive's gaze locked on mine, and I could tell he knew why I had stopped.

_Looking into her eyes, he realized that this had been when the wraiths started haunting her. He knew she wouldn't want to continue; the Professor would never believe her._

_"Until what?" Luke asked curiously. He watched her intently._

_"Until the day I left," she said slowly, shifting in discomfort. "I knew that if I stayed, Bill Hawks would find me eventually. So I kept on moving." She wrung her hands together, staring down at them quietly._

_He knew that she wanted more than anything to change the subject. So, while there was a moment of silence, he did. "Magenta, if you will, I'd like to know who else has signed that petition," he said softly._

_She nodded, smiling gratefully at him. "Alright then," she said. Then she looked down at the list. "Here's a few, all with the same last name. Clark, Brenda, and Mike Triton."_

_"Those are my parents!" Luke cried excitedly. Then his smile faded. "But… but who's the third one?" he asked confusedly._

_She shrugged. "I dunno. But the one underneath it is Doland Noble."_

_"My butler!" Luke cried._

_Magenta laughed. "Luke, you're very easily excited," she told him. Then she shook her head. "I just can't get over how much you look like Clive."_

_Clive shifted in discomfort. "Well, there is a reason for that," he mumbled._

_Magenta looked over at him. "What do you mean?" she asked._

_He looked away, embarrassed. "Well… I posed as Future Luke while conducting the Attack," he admitted._

_She laughed. "And they believed it? You're only sixteen!"_

_Layton crossed him arms. "Clive's not sixteen. He's twenty-one," he told her._

_Magenta's smiled faded. "Wha-what?"_

I crossed my arms and turned to face Clive, whose cheeks were bright red with embarrassment. "Clive," I said in an irritated tone. "Is this true?"

He smiled sheepishly at her. "I thought you would trust me more if you thought I was younger," he admitted.

I did not smile back. "I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day," I told him.

His smile vanished. "Magenta!" he gasped.

Luke shrugged. "Well, that's what you get for lying!"

Layton nodded. "Agreed."

Clive crossed his arms, turning his back to me. "Meh."

Layton let a small smile slip onto his face before he turned to me. "Magenta, let's leave the rest of the petition for another time. It'll be a good way to regain our confidence should we need to. And by 'our' and 'we', I mean Clive."

"Meh," Clive said again, louder this time.

I laughed quietly to myself. Then I nodded. "Good idea," I told the Professor. Then I yawned. "We should all get some rest," I suggested.

Layton nodded. "That would be very shrewd of us," he replied.

Luke yawned. "Yes, I'm quite tired," he said.

"Me too," I replied. I crawled over to my little corner.

Luke and Layton sat down on the left side of the cell, leaning against the wall.

After a few minutes, everything fell silent. I shifted in boredom, unable to fall asleep.

"Goodnight, Clive," I said randomly, knowing he wouldn't be asleep.

There were a few moments of silence before he replied.

"Meh."

* * *

Oh, Clive. Will he ever learn? Magenta can hold a grudge for a _REALLY_ long time. Lucky she likes you.

Anyway, so sorry for the wait! More is on the way, and I promise that all of your favorite characters will sign the petition!


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